


I will not say goodbye

by Bebec



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Betaed, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Case Fic, Chloe Decker Needs A Hug, Confused Chloe Decker, Dating with the actual King of Hell, Deckerstar - Freeform, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feelings, Flashbacks, From French to English, Hell, Humor, Implied/Referenced Torture, Lists, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Needs A Hug, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Wing Reveal, Lucifer's back from Hell, Mythology References, Not all the time, POV Chloe Decker, POV Lucifer, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 04, Prompt Fic, Romantic Fluff, Self-Doubt, Sexual Tension, Shyness, Slow Burn, The Devil doesn't know how to be in a relationship, This fic won't be all fluffly and love, Translation, Tumblr Prompt, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Work In Progress, sexlist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 100,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21539122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bebec/pseuds/Bebec
Summary: No one ever comes back from Hell - final destination, hopeless point of no return for most human beings on Earth.But Chloe couldn't have hoped less from a certain being, could she?Making light of fatality, it's the Devil's lot.______________POST S4 finale. Fic first inspired by a prompt.@ luciferprompts :'Before they start having sex Chloe asks Lucifer to make a list of things he wants to do with her so they can discuss it together and she can mark what she is/isn't comfortable with. The list surprises her.'______________Betaed.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 132
Kudos: 440





	1. Simple things

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are, I finally allow myself to work 100% on this post S4 finale fanfiction.  
> The following story is inspired by a prompt found on 'Lucifer Prompts' on Tumblr;  
> ___  
> Before they start having sex Chloe asks Lucifer to make a list of things he wants to do with her so they can discuss it together and she can mark what she is/isn't comfortable with. The list surprises her.  
> ___
> 
> Perfect subject for a sequel to season 4! X)
> 
> So I'm warning you,  
> This story contains explicit sexual scenes that aren't for children nor teenagers (I will warn at the beginning of chapters concerned, but I would be grateful to the youngest readers to resist to the temptation ^^).  
> It also has (necessarily) a large number of spoilers about the events of the latest season released on Netflix. 
> 
> Thank you to Kittendealer for your support and enthusiasm for this fanfiction before I even publish it. The story will be beta-checked as soon as it can be (I hope there aren't too many faults).
> 
> (Fanvid inspiration/motivation - 'Lucifer & Chloe / Lost without you' Always108)  
> Music inspiration for the entire fic - https://open.spotify.com/track/3cWI6Hj9LQ0MfMuhw9uSMc?si=CfNw8_ooQFOaSNE9ffG6ow ('Lost without you' - Freya Ridings')

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT :  
> The story has finally found a great beta - so minor faults from this chapter to the last one updated.  
> Thank you OkamiShadou98 for the correction :3  
> You rock!

**SIMPLE THINGS**

1

* * *

"I can't believe your work keeps handing out boring tasks like this, Detective."

Lucifer sighs and puts an umpteenth file on the pile of 'classified' ones, glaring at the much higher pile of 'unclassified' files to his right. Chloe smiles without lifting her gaze from her own file on its way to be classified as well - just fifty left now, so great - thrilled to hear him complain, hear him name her so, hear him trying to keep up appearances only to please her; as much as he can submit himself to such boring professional tasks. 

She repeats herself that this is real, but everything prevails in holding otherwise.

A dream. 

_You're dreaming. He's gone... he's gone so far._

Far... Hell can't be less concerned by such an adjective, from what Lucifer told her. 'Far' means nothing, so little for the distance, the distance they endured for her own sake, for Charlie's, his closest family and friend's, for the whole world's sake. 

It's a dream, an illusion. 

Chloe's nightmare, her own torment brought back to Earth, long before her death... just for her, a woman - human and stupid - who dared to let the Devil go, who rejected him, abandoned him and then forced him to leave for her own sake... _hers_. Chloe dreams on a loop, her hell loop, born from Hell for the hell she's living, caused by his absence.

His sacrifice. 

Chloe is afraid to look up. Of course, she can always try to convince herself that such hesitation is strictly professional, concerned she is not to lose tracks for an expected and repeated joke on his part. But she wouldn't fool anyone, she above anyone else. She always fears that this voice, this joke, would be nothing more than her imagination, her torment prolonged to her five senses. How many times did she find herself in the same kind of situation, when she looked up, turned around and met nothing but emptiness? 

Too many times. 

A dream….

Chloe's unfazed breathing becomes noisier without Lucifer noticing. His lack of reaction deepens her anxiety to have been mistaken once again, to dream, hope for nothing... to suffer almost as much as he does, where he's trapped. 

But no. 

She _knows_ she isn't.

Her gaze slips over pages, slowly rising towards the end of the desk; towards this designer navy blue sleeve, this wrist and this hand wearing a very particular ring. She watches as this hand grabs another file - its yellow cover clashes prodigiously with the hue of the sleeve. She listens to this sigh that isn't hers, which isn't exhaled from her closed lips. 

Her smile widens and her breathing calms down. "Nothing will ever overcome paperwork, Lucifer. Not even the Devil," she teases him while letting her gaze lift to his face. 

He smiles slightly at her teasing, more amused than offended by it. And for a moment, nothing else exists but him, but her. Both of them thrilled to get lost in each other's gaze, thrilled that this isn't their mind playing tricks to them, nor their guilt. After that Lucifer looks away, browsing a few pages of his gaudy yellowish file.

He reads the first page more attentively, puzzlement growing on his face. "Why should we endure so much paperwork for this 'Ryan Scott'?" 

"Because we arrested him for murder. Five days ago; remember?"

Lucifer stays quiet, lost in the puzzling reading of the case in his hands. 

He shakes his head. "If human laws for such a crime lead to greater punishments for the executioners, I'd suggest for you to find another occupation, dear. The sentence doesn't deserve this sleep-inducing task!" 

"I'm not gonna quit for so little, Lucifer;" Chloe replies, turning another page of her own file - redundant punishment of another suspect for another crime. 

"I tortured miscreants for so little, as you say." 

She laughs; amused even if she gets nervous by hearing this. Oh, make no mistake; the fear of Lucifer has nothing to do with her reaction here. This kind of fear has nothing to do with her anymore, actually. She hadn't lied that night and wouldn't go back on her past and actual words. 

But the fear of 'something else', on the other hand….

For so little, hm? 

For so much more, given the obvious hostility of those demons during that horrible night. De facto, any demon is notoriously hostile - towards each other as much as towards their King and any other species. But that night had been... 

... emotionally hostile. 

_"P-Please...."_

In many ways. 

_"Goodbye."_

"You never told me…" Chloe begins and Lucifer gives her polite look, inviting her to continue with an arching eyebrow, "how... how you punished people in Hell.'" 

"Well, you never asked." 

"True. I thought that... that you were feeling uncomfortable with the subject, actually," she says shyly, smiling.

He looks quietly at her for a moment and Chloe begins to think she just crossed a line, the same line she had grazed the last time, when she had implied how he might have liked torturing people in his rightful kingdom of punishments. But a smile rises in this embarrassing silence, Lucifer's smile. 

"I will never stop being amazed by your reactions, Detective," he murmurs. 

"I…."

What response could she give?

"You care about what I might feel uncomfortable with... me, the Devil," he continues, his smile widening further. 

It is as large as it can be now. However, her fears of making him feel uncomfortable with her questions is soon enough confirmed; he's still smiling, but his eyes betray an emotion quite different from this perfect curve on his lips. Something's bothering him. 

"But you are, aren't' you?" she says, her brow furrowed. 

"I- Well, I suppose I am." 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

He immediately interrupts her by placing his hand on hers, "Oh, no, no! You misunderstood me, Detective. I'm just- I don't know how to react, I can't even tell if there's an appropriate way to react to your... _kindness_ ," he ends with a more tense smile. 

Lucifer's discomfort erases Chloe's who squeezes his hand so hard that it hurts; if she makes him feel - in addition to this emotional inconvenience - any physical discomfort, he doesn't tell, fully satisfied with her touch so as not thinking of complaining about anything else. Neither would she.

"It's all right. Any of your reactions will do...." 

His smile shifts from embarrassment to a more frank appreciation of what he just heard. The human who had emerged from this perfectly understandable discomfort lets the immortal being rise, it happens so fast that Chloe doubts she has the same person before her the next moment. She watches his thousand-year-old presence grow, at the cost of the shy tenderness shown earlier.

"Will they, now?"

She watches him being very pleased by the news. She looks at his grin, with that slight touch of sincere happiness in it that she knows to provoke so easily; as much as he does with her. Lucifer leans over the desk towards her; too far to touch her, but close enough to arouse her. He gets that result from her with so little effort, so little to disrupt her thoughts, to turn on her desires in an instant….

A dream.

Another kind of dream.

The line of his neck, right under his white collar. The line of his jaw, the sunlight on his skin, between each of his black curls that are perfectly subdued to the Devil’s skills.

Having some difficulties breathing properly, Chloe starts to writhe on her seat; crossing her legs to regain some composure.

Worse.

Her jeans take part in the global treason of her senses, of her body that is no longer responding to her commands. Not from her anymore; only from this man’s commands, this angel, th— No, the Devil’s commands. The fabric exerts some friction between her thighs, neither painful nor totally pleasant. She gulps, squeezing the Tippex in her hand. Burning for the Devil - how appropriate. Burning so easily… This is just a question, a common approach with her desk standing between them, damn it!

It's just a dream. 

Idyllic burning. 

Some people unaware of this shared, desired dream pass near the detective's desk and give her a welcome interlude to her thoughts. She shirks from the Devil's easy grip on her soul, the latter reluctantly releasing her hand from his, perfectly aware of the change in his partner's behaviour with this simple touch. She places her hands on her still opened file, the confined fire of her desire nevertheless moving up to her cheeks. She coughs, definitely uncomfortable; and definitely the only one of the two to be uncomfortable for so little. 

"So..." Chloe continues, looking down. "H-How did you punish criminals down there? Was it... somehow 'simpler' than here?"

It has to be, somehow. Eternal damnation goes far beyond all these human and administrative trivialities, these constraints of partiality, of corruption, injustice... without all this, 'punishing the bad guys' should be simpler. Fairer. 

Lucifer sighs, looking absentmindedly before him; at this unquantifiable distance from her, from the precinct. 

Chloe wants to touch him again, but not for the same reasons as before. Instead, she rolls her pen between her fingers; back and forth, from one fear to another. 

_He's here, right here... right before you._

"It might look like it, indeed," he answers, always looking astray at a place that she would only know by reputation. "But it isn't as simple as you think."

"What do you mean?" 

"It's difficult to constrain yourself to strict punishment when there aren't these numerous human legal procedures to stop you in your tracks. There's nothing but you and the crime, the condemned one and the executioner. This lack of restrictions leads to simplicity, but not necessarily for the best."

She watches him take a long breath and briefly clench his fist on the desk; too easily brought back to memories she suspects are unpleasant. 

Many of hers are. 

_"All those people you tortured... Did you enjoy it?"_

_"It was a job, Detective."_

"You mean Hell has no limits for this? I thought it was giving the 'right' punishment every time, to everyone?" Chloe wonders. 

"Oh, don't get me wrong! Hell is unwavering fair in its judgment, it just hasn't always been the case. When I f—"

He keeps quiet, his fist definitely clenched, he definitely breathes slower than before. She doesn't push him to pursue, even if her curiosity would like if he does. Lucifer gulps, loosening his fingers one after the other, not looking at her at once. 

“When I fell…” he says in a tensed voice. “Hell wasn’t yet as ‘organized’ as it is now. There were still so many things to do, so….”

“So you had to take the law into your own hands,” she finishes for him.

Her voice is gentle, without any kind of accusations. Lucifer finally looks at her, reassured to see a smile on his partner’s face; reassured that he is well and truly accepted for what he is, what he has been because he has to. 

He nods. “I didn’t like this new job of mine, but the crimes had been sometimes so 'willingly’ perpetrated that I might have overstepped the mark. In many ways. These men, women who had done such revolting things and who boasted over and over again about it… telling me this; to me, the angel who had defended them, who had—”

He stops again, glancing at her.

And this time, Chloe puts her hand on his. “It led you to do some things.”

He almost stops breathing, his hand still under hers. Chloe squeezes it, just enough to feel this slight tremor moving along her palm, this tremor from the Devil’s soul, from the fallen angel, along her skin.

Angel, Devil… unique celestial being; she still has to deal with these notions in her existence, in every word, every reaction from Lucifer. How should he perceive her; a simple fallible human trying to understand this very personal divine justice that he had inflicted to others in the past?

They are like insects, such tiny creatures….

“Simple things, yes,” he whispers.

“But now you do make things difficult for yourself, don’t you?”

With these words, Chloe glances at all the files being piled up here and there on her desk between he and she, a slight smile on her lips. Lucifer’s features gradually relax and his fingers join hers, confident in their skillful and measured conquest.

“I probably do,” he says with a radiant smile that widens her own.

An equally measured heat starts to rise along her wrist. His celestial fingers brush its curve, right above her palm. They run along each of her veins of her skin. What she wouldn't give for a sudden cold snap. Make no mistake, she finds a lot of pleasure in this contact; much too fast, too fast in this context, this place. Near all these people, colleagues, friends and—

Lucifer's fingers move slightly back and forth. Chloe's breathing quickens, her palm quivers. He feels it and a very different smile rises on his lips. He doesn't move further, however, nor does he stop; things stay at this shy touch of their respective skin, their hands. No kiss - Lucifer knows she wouldn't allow it. She doesn't like to put on a show and, in a way, recently found herself selfish about his displays of affection. 

But she thinks about their kiss anyway.

She starts to think of other things, those things that it's normal to think of. 

Simple things. 

"Hey, _Deckerstar!"_ someone suddenly heels them. 

Once again surprised and interrupted by wrong places and context, Lucifer moves his fingers away from her skin, not without brushing her palm all the way along, which causes Chloe to shiver again. Closing her fist immediately, she turns her head, shaking it while she spots Ella near her lab. 

"I already told her to stop calling us like this…" she grumbles, not much loving the denomination.

Anyone else wouldn't as well after hearing it over and over again - whispered, exulted, shouted, sung - as soon as she and her partner showed themselves together at her workplace, which is normal and intentional in a partnership, but a regrettable invitation to celebrate their recently more _personal_ collaboration. 

Chloe starts to regret having let Ella in on the secret. 

"It sounds perfect to me," he laughs. 

They share a knowing glance before the young forensic arrives at her desk, all excited, " 'Got a new case!"

"See, Detective?" Lucifer exclaims with a pleased intonation. 

She doesn't, actually; and makes him understand her lack of sight by arching an eyebrow. 

"An all new crime can overcome mind-numbing paperwork," he reveals to her as he closes with a barely contained joy the gaudy yellowish file opened on her desk. "It was so simple!" 

Without further ado, not even his partner, the Devil sits up and asks details about the case to Ella. Chloe slowly closes her own file, staring at Lucifer who walks away towards the main stairs while rubbing fingers - regrettably, hers - on her quivering palm. 

_It was so simple._

**Tbc**

* * *


	2. More Saint than Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the so MANY hits on the first chap, I'm... I'm...; thanks !  
> As for the comments :)
> 
> Here's the second chapter (barely a few hours after I updated the french version, how lucky you are!)
> 
> Music advice (spotify link below) :
> 
> 'The Unforgiven' - Blackwall  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/7JVJhy9kZRKmlf6bJav6gV?si=8jS_VH3iQE-KK29gwsv8ig

**MORE SAINT THAN DEVIL**

2

* * *

  
  


She has been rubbing her fingers ever since. 

From the precinct to her car, from her steering wheel to her gear shift, from the shifter to the ignition key. 

Chloe is still rubbing them as she walks towards her new victim , in this alleyway where the stenches of sewers and decomposing body tickle her nostrils. Her fingers find no respite except with the smooth contact of the blue gloves she must wear for any detailed observation of dead bodies. Pulling the latex to her wrists, she quickly scans the place before coming even closer to the corpse, along with her partner who hasn't hidden his joy at being exempt from further paperwork for the time being. 

East Los Angeles isn't known for its tranquility, so it's not surprising to frequently find crimes and murders according to gangs' susceptibility. What is surprising, however, is to find in the middle of these dangerous streets a stone dead person in her seventies - coming from a well-off background, given her clothes. It's surprising enough to bring half the people around the crime scene, anyway. Chloe passed the police cordon while yet another altercation between two men - inspired in their violent feelings by the death nearby - echoes. Lucifer stares at them while they push each other's buttons and push forward the other curious gathered behind the police cordon, weary officers trying to hold them back out of the restricted area. 

"Not regretting Hell, are you?" she asks him, slightly punching him in the ribs with her elbow.

She has spoken lightly, yet her heart feels so heavy inside. Hell has this power over her, over him. 

He shakes his head. "It doesn't look like I left the place behind, give or take one of two walking nightmares. Although I doubt your officers would tolerate beheading to teach good manners to these bullies, would they?" 

She blinks at him. Does she really want to know?

"Right." 

"Speaking of bullies," Lucifer says after he notices Dan's presence further on. 

"Speaking of good manners," she replies, holding him by the sleeve.

Forced to stop, Lucifer turns to her with an arched eyebrow. 

"I'd appreciate it if you'd... try them a bit more with Dan." 

"And why should I, Detective? It's his that are below par lately, if you ask me. Is it something you did actually like about him? Would you appreciate more bullying from me, perhaps?"

Chloe opens her mouth, however stopped by surprisingly mixed thoughts about it. This isn't relevant right now, though. So she wipes these 'brutal' ideas from her mind. 

"That's not the point. From his point of view, you just... left."

"I did."

"You know what I mean, Lucifer. He doesn't know  _ why _ you left." 

“And because of that, I should disregard his lack of good manners and optimize mine, really?" he summarizes, annoyance echoing in his voice. 

"I'd just…" Chloe sighs while looking at Lucifer and her ex-husband in turn. "I'd just like to solve this case peacefully, all right?"

He sighs too, glaring at Dan over his shoulder. "It's not that simple, Detective."

"Didn't we agree to try to make things difficult for yourself, hm?" she tricks him with a smirk.

He pouts and she stops herself kissing him straight away. Not in public.

Not. In. Public.

Her thoughts get lost once more in intimate moments, dreamed ones, that take some time to become reality for both of them. It's evident that the world, the universe and time keep getting in the way. It's evident that she's holding back again. 

_ He's here.  _

"Emphasizing facts isn't a deal, but as you wish," he accepts reluctantly. "I'll be more saint than Devil, for you."

She smiles, squeezing his fingers briefly. She regrets wearing her gloves, she regrets she hasn't waited to put them on. "As long as the Devil isn't far."

"Always by your side, Detective," he assures her with a devilish tempting grin. 

After which, he takes a deep breath and walks towards the forensic agitation with Chloe at his side. 

_ Always.  _

For a moment, she smells nothing but him, bourbon and cigarettes. Not common ones, the Devil can’t breathe out less noble smoke than Merveilles’. As for her, she breathes in, as deeply as she can without him to notice. Many people can’t tell the difference between one bourbon or another, even less from its ephemeral fragrance perfuming its drinker. Chloe has been one of those people, ignorant, not caring much about it. Then something happened, somebody’s absence that has been haunting for her. 

Now, she knows the difference. 

And she has never drunk that much bourbon to recall a presence, a voice, just a scent. His scent. 

Blanton’s Single Barrel Bourbon and Merveilles. 

_ He’s here. Right here…. _

Each empty bottle has increased her obsession, has given her a pretext to go back there, to delude herself one last time. That’s what she has thought then,  _ one last time _ . 

She rubs her fingers one last time before looking at anything else but her partner. Dan is carefully studying the victim's posture, writing details and possible clues in his notebook. Upon noticing her partner, he gazes at the Devil with frank animosity, to say the least, his gloved fingers tightening around the pen. 

"Hey, Dan," she says with a last worried look towards Lucifer whose posture has become incredibly still under Dan's gaze.

Lucifer puts his hands in his pockets with a smile - saint as requested. Still, his proud posture remains devilish. 

As long as the Devil isn't far, right?

"Daniel," he says in turn.

"So no 'Douche' today, uh?" Dan answers to him curtly, straightening up.

"I can't deny that the temptation is fierce, but I wouldn't be the Devil if I couldn't resist every now and then."

Dan looks at Chloe and Lucifer, her hopes shattered by a smirk from the most tempted one. "Not your best try to have her in your bed, buddy."

"Dan!" Chloe exclaims.

It's Lucifer, however, who prevents her from expressing her anger further with his hand on her forearm, not losing his amiable smile. The strength vibrating under his gentle hold instantly takes her desire to retort off her lips. 

"Detective, Detective… Daniel is only highlighting his frustration for no longer having your delightful presence in his life," he calmly replies. "Besides, it's only natural from him to project the despicable sides of his boring lonely existence on others, isn't it?"

Well… so much for good manners. 

Dan's expression surrenders to anger, growling at Lucifer the next second; "Screw y—!"

Ella chooses this moment to shut the ambiguous manners of the two men of her life down, past and present life. 

_ "Dios mio!  _ Couldn't He solve the traffic problems once and for all before everything else?" she exclaims, putting heavy bags and equipment near Daniel. 

If Lucifer's stillness hasn't already been a sign of worrying hostility, his lack of eloquence regarding God's questionable acts is the most obvious one. As for Chloe, she hardly holds back a frustrated grunt. She has never really paid much attention to these frequent praises of the divine, although more so after she has found out the truth, but it has stayed on a strictly polite level of curiosity.

Now, she keeps wavering between bitterness and frustration towards the Father of All Things. The Father of all her torments, of the angel of whose He keeps controlling his every movement. Like Father, like Son. At least the Son learns from his mistakes. 

Ella quickly notices the mood. her brow furrowed, she asks; "Did I miss something?" 

"Only 'good manners', Miss Lopez," Lucifer finally relaxes, his jaw still clenched, though. 

"Dan, could you interview the first people who arrived at the crime scene? You know how it works," Chloe tells him in a tense tone. 

Dan glares at Lucifer one last time, slowly walking around the body. "Yeah... _ I _ know how it works."

Chloe breathes more freely once he has reached the police cordon. Lucifer finally releases his strong and yet gentle hold on her forearm. This isn't the first time he’s shown himself that demonstrative in his concern for her well-being - both physically and during some manly verbal fights. However, this time it's particular. Probably because of this feeling of belonging coming from him, a clamour about her being 'his'.

"What have we here?" she asks after clearing her throat. 

"Apart from good manners, you mean?" Lucifer replies. 

"Lucifer...."

"Detective?" 

"Guys, I missed this  _ so _ much!" The forensic rejoins them, a radiant smile on her face. "We needed a bit more of 'Deckerstar' in this world; God did hear our prayers!" 

"Luckily, He took action for this before traffic problems, didn't He?" Lucifer adds as he moves away from Chloe, stopping two or three steps away, near the recently deceased seventy-year-old woman's head. 

Luck.

They can see it this way. This way is not hers, even if she knows Lucifer's way closer to God's than anyone might think. But, once again, Chloe needs time to deal with some particular notions, to accept them. 

Luck and time. 

This is her way.

"What about us taking actions for solving this murder?" she calls them both to order. 

"Yes, Deckers—!" Ella exclaims joyfully, noticing Chloe's expression at the last second. " _ Deckersister _ ."

She crouches down beside the victim, looking for something into her bags. Chloe, for her part, watches the victim's profile, whose marbled skin clearly announces the full possession of Death over her body and soul. Facing the ground, in this street of awful scents, the old well-dressed woman has no visible defensive marks, no abundant blood loss…. Although internal bleeding can't be excluded at this stage. Chloe has been doing this job long enough to stop taking appearances as facts. 

Nothing is what it seems to be.

A breath of air can just be that; a breath, and can be much more than that.

_ "Don't go...." _

The air brushing the back of her neck is different, just by its unpleasant smell. She shivers anyway. 

_ "Please don't go, I… I—" _

"Any idea who she is?" she asks, coughing a bit.

"Not yet," Ella tells her as she takes her camera out of her biggest bag. "No personal effects have been found on the body." 

"Maybe the murderer took them before he left? It wouldn't be that surprising, considering where we are."

"If this is indeed a real murder, Detective," Lucifer intervenes after walking around the victim. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, I don't see any signs of violence on this decrepit lady. Except for the gaudy pink she seemed to use as a blusher, but—"

"Non-relevant for our case, Lucifer."

"But relevant for the longevity of the sense of fashion, Detective." 

Before Chloe can even roll her eyes, Ella speaks again, "Lucifer's right, the first guys here didn't immediately think about murder. Given her age and the absence of any visible deadly wounds, her end could have been natural, not criminal."

Chloe frowns. "Why did they change their minds, then?"

"For this."

Her friend points to a specific spot on the ground, two or three inches from the victim's head. As she leans forwards, the detective finally notices the semicircle pattern of water starting at the level of the left ear and ending near the right one. 

"Is it water?" 

With these words alone, Lucifer expresses aloud Chloe's scepticism about it. She crouches down while Ella takes some pictures of the wet tracks on the ground. 

Dry, for the rest of it.

"It hasn't rained for days and the pattern is too clearly defined to be a coincidence," she thinks aloud, quickly scanning the rest of the area around the body. "Did they find anything else? An empty bottle or...?"

"Not that I know of," says Ella - this time busy collecting some samples from the liquid. 

"The killer might have cleaned carefully to cover his tracks, as with the victim's missing personal effects." 

"Or these officers' sight is clearly below par, Detective. As much as some people's good manners are," Lucifer points out, leaning slightly behind her.

Chloe stares at him. 

Pointing his finger at the victim's head, he explains; "There's something here, right before your eyes. As before hers, it seems."

Without delay, Ella leans forwards, her black hair almost touching the ground as she tries to see this detail pointed out by the Devil. Always in the details, as it also appears. Chloe also notices many of them. This short distance between his cheek and hers, the haunting smell of bourbon, his nostrils slightly dilated by the unpleasant scents of the place, by the body lying at their feet. 

"Decker, gimme a hand?" Ella asks her, her gloved hands resting on the right temple of the corpse.

She averts her gaze before he can offer his. 

Blessed are Ella's interruptions.

With the latter's approval, she lifts the decrepit dead face off the ground with careful precaution. The forensic slowly pulls a thin silver chain towards her, the cross attached to it also peeled away from the dehydrated retina. 

Watching the iron object swing back and forth, Ella congratulates Lucifer;  _ "Good eye _ , man!" 

"Of course, my eyes are a hundred times more performant than yours." 

"A cross?" Chloe wonders. 

It can't have fallen out of the victim's pocket like that, nor could it have been dropped on this particular spot on the ground after she has been murdered; which they still must prove, although they're headed in the right direction. But they need to define the cause of death. Without that, it won't give a good start to the investigation - as if it wasn't enough that difficult already, with the lack of good manners…. 

Chloe carefully watches the victim's neck, moving up the stiff collar to her skin, already hard to the touch. 

No signs of strangulation. 

"A penny for your thoughts, Detective?" Lucifer says behind her.

"I'd like to know how this old woman - obviously a loaded one - ended up in a place like this. No ID, no car, nothing to clearly define the cause of death...."

"Count me in for the last one, Decker!" Ella exclaims confidently, thumbs up. "Ella Lopez will take up this challenge and find real answers to your questions! Give me twenty-four hours to rule out a few possibilities and do some analysis on our dear Jane Doe, okay?" 

"As long as we don't have to classify more paperwork in the meantime," Lucifer mutters. 

Chloe smiles, removing one glove. 

"Fine. Let me know as soon as you find something useful. In the meantime, Lucifer and I will go around the area and interview some witnesses. Dan may have found some useful information as well...."

"Would you mind if I wait here, Detective?" Lucifer asks her. "Just the time for me to talk to Miss Lopez ." 

She stares at him, intrigued by his request. Ella has difficulty avoiding her gaze, but manages to do so through forensic manipulation of the victim's surroundings. What is this all about?

Her suspicion might be visible on her face and gaze because Lucifer immediately tops with a charming smile; "Besides, I doubt you'd appreciate another episode of Douchy Douche good manners, am I right?" 

She sighs, finally nodding. He has a point.

"Okay, fine. I'll be right back; don't touch anything without gloves," she warns him before walking away.

"How buzz killing of you, Detective!" he complains in her back. 

A smile rises her lips without him knowing anything about it. 

Chloe can only agree with Ella, she missed this so much. She can say the same about the Devil's teasing and Dan's comment, although these have been more and more brutal than before, given the latest events in their lives. These recent additions mark the vast void he has left with his absence in her life.

_ He's here.  _

A new part of her life within she breathes again.

A new chance. 

A little more time. 

Some journalists heel her, held back behind the police cordon ongoing with criminal investigations. As always, they are eager for horrible details to spread around, most of which would be exaggerated. She ignores them and joins Dan, busy interviewing a fifteen year old young man away from the crowd of curious people. Unlike the others, this boy seems more eager to get out of here. She takes note of his neglected appearance; his jeans too torn to support any fashionable genre but financial precariousness, his pale skin covered scratches, bruises yellowed by time disappearing under his black sweats, which falls halfway to his knees. 

He often runs his hand through his long brown hair, which often falls before his green eyes, wide-opened with nervousness. 

Dan quickly notices her presence, his features still wearing the signs of his previous annoyance.

"Chloe, let me introduce you Francis," he says. "Francis, this is Detective Decker. Francis lives in the youth centre two blocks from here. He knew the victim."

"Did you?" she asks, looking at the young Francis, who nods swiftly, his gaze restlessly looking all over the place.

"Y-yeah. She.... Mrs. Sanchez used to come often at the centre." 

"Sanchez, you say?" she repeats. 

"More precisely; Penelope Sanchez," Dan informs her after checking his notes. "A rich widow from the uptown, it seems." 

Another nod from Francis.

"She was giving a lot of cash so we could have food, clothes and... you know who did this to her?"

"Not yet, but we'll do everything we can to find out, Francis, I promise. Do you know if she had a car?" 

He nods. 

"Do you know the model?"

Her car might still be here, as well as other essential evidence.

But Francis shakes his head this time. 

"We'll go to the centre, Lucifer and I - they might know more about the victim's habits there,” she thinks aloud.

"Right…  _ Lucifer, _ " Dan grumbles near her.

His comment makes Chloe cringe, but she nevertheless prevents herself from answering him. She thanks Francis for his precious testimony, then encourages him to follow one of the officers present on the crime scene to complete the paperwork so hated by her partner, hated in turn by her former one. 

Once Francis leaves, she turns to Dan. "Will you tell me what the hell's wrong with you?" 

"What's wrong with me?" 

"Don't play dumb with me, Dan," she continues, annoyed, crossing her arms on her chest. "You've been trying to make Lucifer lose his temper ever since he came back. Can't you just act like an adult for once?!" 

He stares at her in disbelief, fists on his hips. 

"You' kidding, right?" he blurts out. 

She keeps quiet, just glaring at him in turn. 

"This guy clears off, leaves a trail of dead bodies behind him that _I_ help you make up as mass suicide for _his_ sake - also for yours since your fingerprints are everywhere on the crime scene - and all this without questioning you, not once! I support you every single day, every night, every time you get a panic attack, every time you can't think of anything but him - not even Trixie - and _I_ should act like an adult?! So yeah, I hope you're kidding, Chloe!" 

"Dan...." 

"No 'Dan' with me, Chloe!" he cuts her off vehemently. "It's been _ two weeks.  _ Two weeks since he came back from who knows where and you're already letting him regain his place by your side?! Just like that, really?"

Dan doesn't know, but she does; that's the difference, it's that simple. She leans on the car parked nearby, her skin hurt by the heat gathered in so little time into the metal, but less hurt than with her ex-husband's words.

"He's my partner."

"No, he _was_ your partner," he retorts. "He has no rights to be here!"

She straightens up, ready to fight tooth and nail for Lucifer. "It's not your decision to make, Dan." 

"You think that the Lieutenant would be glad to know that one of his civilian consultants might be involved in some mass murderer, uh?" 

"That wasn't Lucifer. You don't know a thing about what happened that night," she says eagerly, looking around with growing apprehension. 

"Because you don't want to tell me a thing about it, dammit! What am I supposed to think about all this, huh?" 

"Nothing at all. The case is closed."

"Not for me, Chloe. I deserve to know. I need to understand." 

"Like you let me understand with Palmetto?" 

It's a low blow, but Chloe only realizes it once the words come out of her tense mouth. She can blame her anger, her fears to see Lucifer accused of murders because of Dan's masculine jealousy; but her reaction has nothing to do with what she's actually feeling. It's... visceral. A burning instinct, gushing out of the depths of her being by just hearing Lucifer's name.

By just the possibility of him being in danger, threatened. 

It's... surprising, powerful and uncontrollable. 

She sees Dan's understandable impatience turn into a defeated, hurt, and finally resigned expression. 

"Dan—"

He nods, avoiding her gaze. 

"Dan, I-I... I'm—"

"No, I was wrong," he says. 

He takes a step back, a fake smile on his lips. "My bad, really. You're already in his bed, I see. He found his rightful queen, didn't he?"

As Dan heads back to the crime scene, Chloe stays near the car, taking his speech for what it is; a worry, a jealousy for which she can hardly blame him. It's a fair return, nevertheless true. 

The King has found his Queen.

Quite literally. 

**Tbc**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did give information here! I DID!  
> Anyway, more of it will come on the next chap ;) 
> 
> Thanks for reading (next one as soon as I write it aaaand translate it, of course)  
> Byeeeee (so late, here, Jesus!)


	3. Honorary masturbation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are very lucky lately, you know that?  
> For once, you're the first to have the chap - not the french readers. :) Can't promise it'll happen all the time since then, but we can drink to this today!
> 
> Longer chap, more 'details' about his return, about the case... Enjoy (sorry for the possible mistakes, as always)
> 
> Music advice (spotify link below) :
> 
> 'fuck, I'm lonely' - Lauv, Ann-Marie  
> (for the end of the chap)  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/09PGubKAMryhOWv1LHpCYz?si=9XIsdKi7QL25aDRbXD8I1g

**HONORARY MASTURBATION**

3

* * *

Directors offices all look alike. 

From the office of the headmaster to that of the dean of faculty, from the smallest spheres of education to those of help centres for young people in difficulty; each time there is the uniformity of power from a single person, for each place - whatever it is. 

"Why did you need to talk with Ella?" Chloe asks as she meanders past the many pictures on the wall, self-congratulations forever frozen in a frame. 

"Will you tell me what your talk with Daniel was all about?" 

She turns around, watching Lucifer pick up and play with one trophy after another at the other side of this pontificating office of altruism. He stops at a voluminous cup, which almost eclipses the other honorary rewards around, before meeting her gaze. 

Chloe shrugs, returning to her own contemplation - albeit less touchy than his - of the various pictures and certificates. A way like any other to hide her embarrassment, the painful feeling left by Dan's comments earlier. 

_ His rightful queen.  _

"Nonsense, for the most part."

"Can't say that I'm surprised."

"He's just—" she sighs, shaking her head. 

"—a douche?" he finishes for her.

She looks at him, her lips hardly struggling against his teasing tone. Instead, she gives him a half-cold, half-amused expression.  "'Concerned”, Lucifer." 

"How could he not be - I ravished you for him, didn't I?" 

He smiles at her.

From his victorious smile comes this spark of desire that has rarely left her for two weeks. Of course, it had barely died out during his long absence, but the absence itself changed many things. Having him standing right before her, in the flesh, man and Devil, changes a  _ lot of _ things. 

Like her relationship with Dan, for starters. 

It didn't get better after her strange, incomprehensible and dangerous request to make up what happened in the Mayan church into a collective suicide. She thinks sometimes of how it could have gone differently, in a more ignorant context for her. If Lucifer had asked her this while she was unaware of the most important - and also the most obvious - part of his identity... would she have done it without question? 

Would she have done it for Dan? 

He did, for her. 

He got his hands dirty because she asked him to. 

And she... 

Lucifer stands before her now, as much proud he can be to have won her heart, waiting to win her body as well. Speaking of which, she does notice how close his body is from hers. Still this hand wearing this ring, which is playing with the gold trophy. Still this neck given to her gaze, the white collar opened on it, how his skin quivers with each of his breaths. His stubble meticulously tamed, in opposition of the wild charm he's spreading around. 

What are they waiting for?

What is  _ she _ waiting for?

Chloe blinks several times and gulps, waiting for the desire to pass, waiting for its lessening, at best. It never passes. 

_ Murder. Case. Focus.  _

"Technically, I don't belong to anyone," she says, taking the trophy from his hands with a disapproving glare. "There was no one to 'ravish' me from."

"To which Daniel has had quite a hard time to understand, hasn't he?" he insists.

She arches an eyebrow. "Like you with 'good manners', you mean?"

"Well, it's no different than sex, Detective - it takes two to make it work."

Lucifer frowns, a gleam - both naughty and amused - passing through his gaze. "Not my best analogy, is it?"

Images cross her mind. Her fingers tighten their grip around the handle of the cup. 

Damn it. 

_ Murder. Case.  _

Despite everything, despite herself, she replies with the same expression; "I heard the Devil's stamina was unchallenged so far... Looks like I was wrong." 

"Even the impossible has its limits, Detective. I can't dispel my true nature for long." 

Impossible. True nature. 

These words echo within her like the end of what they have, the crazed countdown to the time they have left. Never enough, never for long enough. 

But he's here. In the flesh, man and Devil, both fallible in their good manners. 

"I know. And that's not what I'm asking you for here." 

"Sounds like a 'but' is coming." 

" But Dan…" she continues, putting the cup where he found it, looking for some rest for her thoughts, for her worries in general. "Dan helped me a lot when— Well, you know when."

She can't talk about it, not really since the last time. Hell was a vast, distant subject, but his departure down there stays...  _ complicated  _ to abroach. Probably because his way of seeing things isn't hers yet, that talking about it won't yet be able to change this. A departure stays one, one too many in her thoughts, in her life. 

It's too much, too early to talk about it again. 

_ He's here.  _

"I do, indeed," he says at her back. 

Chloe turns back to him, one hand placed on the trophy cabinet. As she often catches him doing so - more often than before his painful departure - Lucifer tries to delude her about his true feelings with a smile. 

" _ So I… bluffed." _

A lie, despite everything. He's lying despite himself. 

The truth is that he is no more ready than she is to approach this subject again. They should come back to it at some point, though. But not now. 

Not now. 

Two weeks of  ' not now ' ; it's not that long, is it?

"Sorry, I didn't want to bring that back up again," she apologizes as she comes back to him. "I just don't know how to act with Dan, to make him accept the situation." 

She sighs. 

"It got so complicated so fast…." 

His smile, pretending to show how he's not affected at all so far, starts to truly reflect what's on his mind; a mixing of fondness and complicity that she's once more surprised to want to kiss. 

"Just what we wanted, right?  'Complicating' our simple lives," he tells her, his gaze into hers before it goes further down. 

He's struggling against the same desire, she feels it. She feels many things; simple, complicated ones. That's how it is when you're the King's  _ Queen _ , the consort of the Tempting Devil who's inclined to bend his face over an inch or two; over complexity, simplicity. It's simple, complicated between them, towards the whole world. Simple to know him standing before her, right here; complicated to know the rest, what his presence means. 

Going to meet his desire seems so simple; she wants to. 

"Detectives?" 

The only Detective and Devil, who's mistaken as such, turn to the door now opened to the rest of the institute while a pudgy smiling old lady is standing there. 

"Oh I wish I could claim to be one, dear; but I'm just a talented civilian consultant!" Lucifer corrects kindly before any further formal presentation with the manager of the place. "Here's the one and only  'Detective' in charge of the investigation - Detective Chloe Jane Decker." 

Refusing a new wave of desire by just hearing her name between those lips she was staring at a minute ago, the only representative of the authority offers her hand to shake. "Detective Decker will do. Hi."

"Marleen Harris, I manage the place. And you are—?" she asks, going back to the  'talented'  consultant. 

"Right, where are my  _ manners?" _ he exclaims, glancing at Chloe before politely kissing her hand. "Lucifer Morningstar, at your service." 

Mrs. Harris blinks several times, struggling to breathe normally until the Devil finally deigns to release her shaky hand from his hold. She's almost swinging on her square and worn heels - not the kind of manager who's rolling in money, it seems. Her altruism, which has been rewarded so many times, surely is. After straightening up, Lucifer catches Chloe's gaze on him again, adding promptly; "On a professional level, it goes without saying."

Chloe frowns. It doesn't look like him to specify the nature of the services he can or cannot provide for future compensation. 

_ " _ _ N-No, See this— this is…. This is what I meant, Lucifer when I said d—" _

" _ My first love was never Eve…." _

_ Oh. _

Is it for her? 

The headteacher doesn't seem to notice his last words, too carried away by the inherent carnal desire levitating around him. It takes her a few more seconds to come back to the usual courtesies of focusing on why they're here and not on how to mentally undress the Devil without looking desperate. She shakes her head and lowers her hand, still offered to him, towards the object of unconditional debauchery that Lucifer can be. 

He's more, though. 

Simpler, more complicated than that. 

"I... I-I wish we had met under better circumstances," she mutters. 

"So do we," says Chloe. "We met one of your  ' protégés '. .. Francis? He's the one who was able to tell us about her identity."

"Francis? Oh right! He and Penelope often talked together when she visited us."

Mrs. Harris shows them the seats in front of her desk, sitting on the other side while shaking her head with growing sorrow on her face. Doing so, a few blonde locks of hair escape from her bun. "It is a dark day for our institute."

"There's no doubt you will miss her lucrative contribution more than anything in this world, darling," Lucifer immediately retorts with a smile. "Humans and money...."

He then notices the Detective's glare. "What?"

Sighing, Chloe turns her attention to the headteacher who still looks puzzled by her partner's speech about money; a typical human flaw.  "Was it usual from Mrs Sanchez to talk with the residents or was it just with Francis?" she asks.

"Well, she's… she  _ was _ like any other sponsors here, they all need to know 'how' their money changed someone's life at some point, to 'see' the results with their own eyes."

"More commonly known as 'honorary masturbation', Detective," Lucifer commentates.

"I beg your pardon?"

Chloe puts her hand on Lucifer's forearm, carrying on with her questions as if nothing had happened; "Did she come here earlier today?"

"She did, actually. She gave her a mensual check, like every first Monday of the month."

Chloe takes some notes about this last information. 

Lucifer laughs cheerfully at her side. "Another masturbatory act, I see. As for me, I tend to prefer my hands to bills, all crumbled with barely a one-way."

Beet red, Chloe briefly shuts her eyes; feeling ashamed to first think of the Devil's hands arousing his own pleasure than thinking of any reprimand. When she says that desire never passes… how is she even supposed to deal with Lucifer's lustful outpourings? 

Moistening her lips, their gaze meet.  "Lucifer—"

"Are you saying that there's no such thing as selfless acts, Mr. Morningstar?" 

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far, Mrs. Harris. To be honest, I'm sitting right next to the least selfish person I know. However, I know for a fact that monetary altruism always hides more than a simple  ' goodness of one's heart ' , as you like to convince yourself so much." 

"You'd be surprised at the price of the goodness of Mrs Sanchez's heart," she replies, her hands joined on her desk. 

"Astronomically shocking, wasn't it?" he guesses with an arched eyebrow. "As shocking as her compensation, I bet?" 

"Lucifer, I don't think _ — _ " Chloe tries to intervene. 

"I do think that our dear manager here is hiding something from us, Detective," he cuts her off. 

Chloe watches more carefully Ms. Harris' defensive posture, her blue brown-painted eyes grow to their widest proportions once she’s heard such an accusation. It's usual to see such a reaction from those who heard the Devil's direct words, reactions that are mostly instinctive but not necessarily reprehensible by laws. 

Which one is it?

Instinctive or reprehensible?

"I-I _ — _ !" she rebels. "I'm not! I have nothing to hide!"

"Come now…" Lucifer shoughs as he sits up to place his hands on the desk. "Everyone _ always _ has something to hide." 

He leans towards her, smiling; haunting his victim's weak human senses. First the sight, her gaze anchored in his until he decides otherwise, until the desire to please him runs out. It won't, even the Detective's experienced senses know it. Then the hearing, captivated by his voice greedy for secrets, for these secrets buried deep within her soul. 

"And you want to tell me what weighs on your heart, don't you? So tell me... What do you truly desire, hm?"

"I-I...."

_ "Yes?"  _ insists the Devil, his smile widening.

Chloe lets him do it, well aware that it is too late to act otherwise. She's still curious to observe from her uninfluenced spot this unique gift that no one seems able to resist. What do they all feel? She knows the desire, maybe even too much for some time, but it looks more subtle than that. 

" _ I have the ability to draw out people's forbidden desires." _

Is it like a wave of outspokenness or a kind of.... a crack in everyone's prudishness? The violent, spontaneous influx of everything they have ever desired in their life, maybe? 

She who already has trouble controlling just one of them... She can't imagine.

"I want to find and hurt the one who killed Penelope!"

"Do you, now?" Lucifer sounds surprised when he moves away, frowning with perplexity. 

"Care to explain?" Chloe encourages her. 

Once seated in his chair, the headmaster finally gets free from Lucifer's power. She shakes her head, looking distraught, before sighing. The weight of her confession - emotionally vindictive, of course, but far from legally reprehensible - makes her suddenly look older. 

"Do you know how many of our sponsors give more than a hundred dollars a month for the well-being of the kids living here?" 

Chloe shakes her head as an answer.

"None! Mrs Sanchez was the only one who truly cared about their future, what they ate over a week, what they needed to live decently. This institution has just lost twelve thousand dollars a month! Without her donations, I'll have to send half of the residents back out on the streets...."

"When I told you that selfless acts are rare," says Lucifer. 

"I'm sorry to hear this, Mrs. Harris; but believe me when I tell you that we're trying to do justice to her selfless donations here. Whoever did this to her can't get away with it without consequences. We need you to find him."

"Of course, I— What do you want to know?" she answers quickly. 

"You said Mrs. Sanchez used to visit you every first Monday? To give her monthly check, right?"

"That's right. I have it right here, actually." 

She starts to rummage through her files, opening and closing one drawer after another. As the seconds pass, her expression hardens. She finally straightens up, her brow deeply furrowed. "It's gone. Gosh!" 

"It never happened before?" Chloe asks her then. 

"Not really. I mean... sometimes, we've caught some kids who were about to cross the line, but—" 

"One of them might be our selfish murderer, Detective," Lucifer points out. 

"What? You don't think seriously that one of these kids would _ — _ ?!" the headteacher exclaims, horrified by this thought alone. 

Chloe shakes her head, pensive. "We can't rule out the possibility that there's a connection to the murder yet. However, to do this, we'll need the files about the last admissions and those of your staff."

Mrs. Harris shakes her head, refusing her request every time her pudgy face makes a semicircle movement. "No, no, no. You're wrong, Detective Decker. These kids are _ — No."  _

"Mrs. Harris, we're not trying to put the blame on those kids. We just wanna rule out this possibility." 

"I can't let you look at these files without a warrant, I'm sorry." 

Right.

Such a reaction was to be expected; Chloe has prepared herself for it, but doesn't appreciate having to wait any longer to solve this already complicated case. The lack of clues, personal effects, witnesses…. And now another door slamming in her face. She wouldn't be surprised to have the same result at Sanchez's home. 

Rich people can't bear to let others rummage through their stuff, as much selfless they might be.

Then Chloe notices that Lucifer is looking for something in the inside pocket of his jacket. 

"I know how to change your mind, darling," he rejoices after taking out his checkbook. 

"Lucifer," she intervenes with a disapproving look. "You can't do this. We're representing the L.A.P.D., yo _ —" _

"No, you're the only legal representative here, Detective," he corrects her immediately with a charming smile. "Need I remind you that my reintegration as a civilian consultant has yet to be ratified by your boss?" 

"So you're  _ not _ a civilian consultant?" the headteacher wonders, surprised, lost.

"I will be soon enough. In a couple of hours, at most."

"In that case, I'll ask you to leave my office," she orders, annoyed. "Both of you," she then adds for Chloe. 

Taking one of the pens from the desk, Lucifer doesn't get flustered by her bad mood. "Oh, come now! It would be a shame to dismiss an all new sponsor of yours, wouldn't it?"

He starts to write a sum of money and name in his checkbook with enthusiasm, under the Detective's horrified gaze and Harris' cold glare. 

"That's very kind of you, Mr. Morningstar _ — _ "

"Of course it is," he adds. "Isn't this how the principle of altruism working?"

" _ — _ but I won't change my mind." 

Lucifer then hands her the check, Mrs. Harris is still busy explaining her point of view while she pulls the piece of paper towards her intent on reading its altruistic content; "Whatever you wrote on this check, it won't ch _—_ _Oh my God!"_ she cries, her eyes wide open. 

He sighs loudly, putting his checkbook in his inside pocket with an annoyed expression. 

"Please, 'Oh my Lucifer'," he retorts, jaws clenched. 

On the verge of hyperventilation, Mrs. Harris gives him frantic nods; reading the check over and over again. She almost tears it between her shaky fingers. She seems on the verge of tears as well. 

"Sure, sure.... Yes _ yes!  _ We'll give you all the files you need. Whatever you want!"

Lucifer looks at his partner, utterly satisfied. "I must say that it feels quite masturbatory, indeed."

**-xXx-**

"How much did you give her?" 

Chloe opens her trunk, Lucifer placing the two boxes of files in it after carrying them effortlessly from the building to the entrance. They pass a group of young people - certainly living there and whose names would be found between the pages brought so far. 

"More than twelve thousand dollars."

He dusts his sleeve, glaring at the astronomical paperwork now gathered in the trunk of her car. These are only the last admissions of the month, including expulsions of some for violent behaviour, not to mention the list of current staff. The centre works in the old-fashioned way - as any institution lacking financial resources at regular intervals - with paper, bulky but more affordable than the latest computer installation. 

She who first wanted to reduce the list of the suspects….

"Not answering my question, Lucifer."

He shrugs. "Oh, you know, once you add one zero after another... hard to stop," he eludes.

"That much, mh?"

"The Almighty is never called in vain, Detective."

It's hard to know if he's talking about himself or not. 

Laughing at this, Chloe closes the trunk.

"I didn't think you were so… that comfortable financially. Dunno what I was thinking, to be honest."

She had always known him as a rich man, living sumptuously. However, she can't tell where all this money comes from, whether he did spend some time on Earth or not until he settled in Lux in 2011. His absence should have had consequences, shouldn't it?

"Where did all this money come from?" 

Before she can assume the worst, Lucifer cuts her off - reading her mind. He leans against the hood, his other hand finding its way to his pants pocket, "From no reprehensible source, rest assured. I just knew how to place my eggs on each of my visits. As for the last one, well...." 

He pauses, as much uncomfortable as she can be about the subject. But, once again, they would have to talk about this, soon or later. As for this part, it's just all about finances, not the most difficult one. 

He takes a deep breath, looking away. "Let's just say that Maze is a gifted bookkeeper." 

"So you left everything to her? Really?" she wonders, crossing her arms on her chest. 

"My, my… are you jealous?" he teases her, arching an eyebrow.

Chloe shakes her head, although she knows it actually is the case. It's stupid, really stupid. She has never felt comfortable with this kind of responsibility, wouldn't have beared having to deal with this in addition to his d _ — _

_ He's here. Right here.  _

Shaking her head one last time, she refutes his assumptions; "I'm not. It's just... curiosity. Why did you entrust your business to Maze instead of any other person?" 

More objectively, Mazikeen isn't the kind of person to stay quietly in a specific spot for more than five minutes. She had seen her walk away all that time when he was gone, the demon thus looking for a way to forget that he was no longer there. 

They had all done it, they had all tried to forget. 

She's still trying to. 

"Let's simply say that this  'any other person' might feel rather uncomfortable  with financial opulence. Plus, I didn't want her to feel obliged to look after my business in addition to everything else," he says softly, looking for her gaze. 

Once he finds it, he adds with a shrug; "Although I had told Maze to save a generous part for this 'any other person’s hyperactive spawn." 

Chloe narrows her eyes, refraining a smile.

"Trixie isn't 'hyperactive'."

As for him, he does smile. 

"Weren't we talking about a hypothetical  'any other person' , Detective?"

There's this irrepressible desire to move to his lips again. Instead, she checks her phone; aware of how long they stayed here, much longer than she expected first. Lucifer, for his part, never stops giving anxious glances to the files still visible from the rear window. 

"What's next, darling? Nothing that requires the mind-numbing study of paperwork, I hope?" 

"This mind-numbing paperwork could help us find the murderer," she points out distractedly, busy checking her last texts. 

"I'd prefer action. I've had enough paperwork for a lifetime... And Father knows mine is bloody long!" 

"Long or not, it'll have to wait." 

She looks up, showing him her cell phone and the actual hour. "Time to go get Trixie from school." 

"Oh." 

Disappointment grows on his face, she notices his slight step back and his averting gaze until he no longer wants to lose contact with hers. She feels the same, every separation has become...  _ is  _ unbearable, to be honest. 

But they need time. 

Together, individually. 

God, it's only been two weeks. 

They can live with a one-night separation, can't they?

It's a start. 

_ " _ _ Don't go." _

_ " _ _ Goodbye…." _

However, Chloe surprised herself by proposing the opposite; her heart starting to beat at a panicking rate the second this possibility of separation has crossed her mind, while it passes through her inherent desire for closeness, for just a presence. 

Simple. 

Complicated. 

"You... you can come with me if you want. I-I... Trixie would be happy to see you, y'know?"

It's the truth, using the truth in an act far from the altruism he seemed to grant her. 

The least selfish person he knew.... 

Seeing him here, in the flesh, did change many things. It changed her.

Lucifer stares at her, hesitant, before opening his mouth and giving her his answer that she hopes to go against another absence in her life. He's interrupted by the ringing of his phone, however. Searching in his pockets, he takes the device out of one of them, his expression getting darker once he has listened to his voicemail. 

"Bloody Hell…" he grumbles with a somber expression.

"What is it?"

He puts the phone away with an impatient gesture. "I'm afraid that this exhausting encounter with your offspring has to wait, Detective. Duty calls." 

"Bad ones?" 

She fears those kinds of duty, of those kinds they still can't find the strength to talk about. It isn't like they don't exist, though. Bad duties for her, solution for him. It's all about perspective. 

Time and luck, right? 

"Just Mazikeen and her bloody wonderful management of Lux," he explains to her. "It looks like I bought five thousand boxes of cheap champagne last night... that and the five thousand bottles of lubricant from Saturday. 'Must be a  _ deep _ meaning for her actions here, but which is it?" 

Coughing with embarrassment, the Detective looks for her car keys. 

"Wasn't she a gifted bookkeeper?" she teases him. 

"She is, Detective. Both in business and in her preposterous ways to punish me for my hasty departure."

He shakes his head, definitely annoyed with the situation. She might have found it funny if the demon's latest punishment hasn't been so... humiliating for the Devil himself.  _ It is  _ funny. 

"You should go," she tells him with a relatively impartial smile. 

"I should, yes."

Lucifer seems to hesitate, though. He stays before her, silent, pensive; it becomes almost embarrassing. 

She stares back at him.  _ "What?" _

"Well, I…" he says, looking for his words, for a clue on her puzzled face. "Would you say we're officially out of any professional duties?"

Her confusion grows further. "Looks like it. Why?" 

For any answer, Lucifer's body comes closer to hers. The approach is so simple, so gentle that she doesn't even think of moving back. She simply lifts her face towards his, both of them being at one with their lips, asking for union. They are cheered by the young people who have hung around the steps a little further. 

She barely hears them. 

She's almost shaking when his hand first, then his thumb touches the curve of her cheek; only opening her eyes again when he moves away from her half-opened lips; ready, eager for a little more than a simple kiss, eager for something more complicated. 

Chloe reluctantly loosens her hold on his jacket. 

She holds onto his gaze, to his breath that might be mistaken with hers, his hand moving from her cheek to her neck without daring to go further. 

Lucifer's breath twitches. 

"Go _ — _ See you later, Chloe," he whispers. 

A second later, she watches him leave, devastated but nevertheless assured that he'd come back to her this time. 

She is  _ his  _ queen, after all. 

**Tbc**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)  
> Dunno when I'll be able to write the next chap. For now, I wait for my beta to check the french version of it. Once it's published, I'll begin the chapter 4. 
> 
> See you later X)


	4. Your King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, second translation 'before' the update of the french original chap!  
> Thanks for the SO many hits since the last update, as mush as for your comments and bookmarks :3 
> 
> Information :  
> I put some quotes in 'bold' to make the difference between dialogues from the show and those from the story. 
> 
> Music advice :  
> _____________  
> 'Can you hear me' - Unsecret  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/0zAKRYUs44kTyqAKP9bS3S?si=D4O5xYIrQuWT2jaRxsJN0Q

**YOUR KING**

4

* * *

Chloe has tried very hard not to think of Lucifer for the rest of the day. She had nearly succeeded until early evening, when she had to put Trixie to bed. If it hadn't been for the latter's question, she could have hoped to keep up like this until sleep takes her. 

"Is Lucifer gonna stay with us now?" 

Chloe isn't ready, no matter how much time passed since he's been back - she's not, as much about giving an answer to her daughter as about getting one from the most concerned one. This 'not now' thing they have tried to build between the sensitive limit of the heavy silence and the dawn of a new conversation weakens; for just one question. 

She pulls the blanket up to Trixie's shoulders - the sky-blue color enhancing the darker hue she wears for the night. She comfortably wedges Miss Alien under one arm and starts to play with the visible yarns of the blanket with the other. She has asked the question without looking at her mother, fully aware - even at her age - that the subject is thorny. Besides her unexpected maturity, Trixie had plenty of time to realize that 'Lucifer' - the name as much as the overall subject - is complicated to come up to with her.

Chloe's memories about this period have left a bitter taste. 

She still has a lot to make up for. 

"It's hard to know for sure, sweetie... we haven't had time to talk about it yet, he and I, you know?" 

"Mmh... but he'll stay, right?" 

Mother and daughter look at each other, one's uncertainties meeting the other's. Chloe smiles and takes her hand in hers, sitting on the bed. "Lucifer's here for a while, Monkey; you don't have to worry."

It's true. This is all she got from him. 

Trixie frowns, playing with Chloe's fingers. "But why did he leave us?" 

"Well, he... he had some problems to resolve to —"

Chloe hesitates. 

How to define Hell, the assertive handling - mortal even, in many ways - of an army of demons of which she only got a glimpse of herself in the Mayan church? This isn't 'home', it's nowhere and everywhere at the same time. This isn't something to tell to a child who's almost nine. Her daughter's maturity has its limits and, as a mother, it's Chloe's duty to keep these limits in place as long as possible. 

She clears her throat, putting a lock of hair behind her ear. 

"He had to go back to his former job, to do some important stuff that was left out too long." 

Her explanation doesn't satisfy Trixie. 

"He shouldn't stay in Hell that long." 

Chloe frowns, her daughter shaking her head while perfectly faking her mother's annoyed tone, "I know who Lucifer is, Mom." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I saw Maze's real face _ ages _ ago, _ " _ she explains, insisting on the last word. 

Chloe can't say she did. 

Maze's 'real' face, uh? It's very likely that the demon has nothing to envy when compared to Lucifer's face, but she can't help but feel curious about this. So much time has passed since then; so many things, revelations, departures and returns, that Chloe is still surprised about her overall ignorance. There are some details she should have known for a while, shouldn't she? 

There's a detail - more important than her roommate's face - that she should know; for two weeks. 

"Oh, right!" exclaims Chloe, amused. "Looks like you're a lot more with it than I am."

"I'm nine," Trixie replies as if it explains everything.

Chloe smiles.

"Right. Well... from 'nine being with it' to me; I think the same about Lucifer. No one should stay that long down there. Even the King."

"He doesn't look like a king to me."

"Is that so?"

Trixie shakes her head, playing once more with the yarns of the blanket. "He has no crown, long train, or scepter, like in the movies." 

"You're right. But he has a throne."

Her daughter's eyes are wide opened with delight now. "Really?"

Chloe nods, smiling at her with this 'mother-child complicity'. 

"That's what he told me."

_ "Come on, Detective! It's been ages since I sat in a throne!" _

There's no doubt that his point of view on the matter has changed since then. Who could regret such royalty, such a seat of power in these circumstances? Who could regret the long loneliness, the slow decrepitude of his soul, his heart, the memories left by someone else?

Trixie's joy brings her back to lighter thoughts, if not more 'present' ones.

"That's so cool!" 

"It is, yeah."

One last time, she runs her hand along the blanket, then tenderly along her daughter's cheek - she will 'be with it' soon enough, out of the innocent and fragile curves of childhood. 

Time changes so many things. 

"Come on honey, it's sleepy time. Goodnight," she says and she kisses the spot where she placed her hand a second ago. 

"Goodnight, mommy."

Chloe stretches her hand towards the bedside lamp, partially plunging the bedroom into darkness, the light still on in the corridor coming through the ajar door. When she arrives there, she turns around, for a single question. 

"Will you ask him, mommy? Ask Lucifer."

"Ask him what, Monkey?"

"To stay with us."

Chloe stands on the doorstep without saying a word, she stays more time than it takes to say just one. A 'yes', a 'no'. One or the other, she can't resolve to say it. For a single question, the answer isn't. 

"Sleep tight, sweetie," she finally says. 

Chloe wouldn't for sure. 

**-xXx-**

Many minutes pass before she even thinks of climbing into her own bed, of turning on her own bedside lamp in anticipation of some relaxing ritual for the sleep to come. She has found a lot of things to do throughout the apartment.

She always does. 

Laundry, tidying clothes, tidying Maze's stuff and placing it out of Trixie's reach. Being with it or not, she is certainly not with  _ those.  _ Taking the trash out, preparing Trixie's snack to save some time tomorrow, time she keeps trying to waste on useless tasks, for less thoughts in mind. 

Less thinking. 

Even comfortably seated in her bed, Chloe keeps eluding the most obvious, fleeing sleep and thoughts of a single person, of a single question, seeking leads and clues instead. It's hard to distinguish blanket and sheets under the large pile of opened files in front of her, hard to find something really useful in these as well. Names, addresses before admission, after expulsion or reinsertion - to a good reputable university or shyer faculty according to the sponsors' wishes, who got more along with some kids than any other one. All these kids, all these sponsors.... 

Chloe rapidly browses the amount of money given by one of them over a year; not high enough to really boast about, indeed. Mrs Harris didn't exaggerate about the current state of their financing. 

**_"When I tell you that selfless acts are rare."_ **

Shaking her head, she throws this file at the end of the bed, grabbing another one. Pages after pages, minutes after minutes, she seeks something, this 'thing' that would make a difference and further the investigation with giant strides. This file reports a few thorny cases of exclusions, some for frequent fights, some other for theft, but nothing fundamentally alarming or looking wrong in this kind of place of help and support. 

Violence is a human thing, at least this instinctive rejection of any help from anyone willing to offer it. It's all the more usual when it comes from these teenagers - eager to fend for themselves, convinced they can, without anyone's help. Violence is a human thing, so is erring. 

_ "We were wrong about something else in the prophecy...." _

Chloe dog-ears the page she's browsing, pinched lipped, before she starts to read the next one, then the next file which is opened near her right thigh. She has a glance at the staff list, not really recalling the names and faces from pictures here and there. Many other names, authority figures for these kids who are always hurring to live by their own means, according to their own rules. 

_ "I need to keep them contained, they must have a king." _

**_"He doesn't look like a king to me."_ **

_ "You'll bow down, to your King!" _

Chloe closes her eyes, clenching her jaw. 

"Dammit…" she mutters, dropping the file between her thighs. 

She stretches her arm towards the bedside table, taking her glass filled with Bourbon and barely drunk so far. She smells its fragrance, a heady reminder of the same one that has touched her lips a few hours earlier, which has brushed her cheek, who is —

"—the King," she says aloud. Her gaze gets lost further than the walls of her bedroom, further than her apartment, than the ends of the earthy plane.

Lucifer has informed her of these 'side effects', but she has thought that she would serenely live this all new situation. His return shouldn't be more difficult to live with than his departure, that's what she has hoped. She has hoped for better sleep, better breathing, among other things. Or that she wouldn't endure this weight stuck between her ribs, between each heartbeat. She has hoped for filling this void in her mind - day and night. 

She has hoped for better than this, better for…

"—the Queen."

**_"He found his rightful queen, didn't he?"_ **

He actually did. He did come back to her. 

*

Two weeks earlier

*

It's an off day. 

Off him, like the other days, weeks and months. Off him, off her.

Off.

Chloe can count the ‘on’ days on the fingers of one hand. It would have taken her much more to list the effects that Lucifer's absence have had on her life so far. 

Off him. 

Off effects, she should say. That's all these two words can express; nothing instead of everything, a so deep lethargy that even physical pain can't change her state. To be honest, she no longer feels the burning heat of the cup against her skin. Maybe because the coffee inside has been ice cold for a while now. She puts her cup on the table, the coffee cooled by this off 'everything', off appetite, off any real need for caffeine, just a need to grasp... a hold on something, if not a hold on her life off, on her feelings. 

Is she turning into a cold-hearted monster? She often sees this gleam in Dan's gaze, this sudden shyness in Trixie's; so she starts to wonder. She has seen it this morning as well, before pouring herself this cup of coffee off sensations; she's seen it on Daniel's face. Trixie, on the other hand, has just rushed towards the door without asking her for more than a quick hug.

_ Off. _

Chloe's eyes stop on the calendar.

She hasn't scratched off today's date yet. It's been staring at her since she has sat down, cup in hand, an off cup; its contents has barely touched her lips. The pen is right there, unused; eager to scratch this umpteenth off day, unable to distract her long enough from this void within her. It's a Wednesday like any other. 

She distractedly turns the cup in her hands, not taking her eyes off this calendar. 

It's her ritual; days 'on' as much as off days. Longer for off days. It wouldn't end any time soon.

Now left alone with her body of off sensations, the moment can last as long as she wants it to. Her boss doesn't care if she respects a specific work schedule or not, as long as the result of the investigation is on her desk at the end of the week. And the investigation is going well; she must wait for Ella's last check on clues, wait for the rest of the suspects to be summoned at the precinct, wait for that little something that would put her in the right direction. 

She has all the time in the world, for this off day.

Chloe still hopes for a second that things would turn out differently. Maybe she would find this renewed energy, which has been locked somewhere, deep within her for almost six months. Maybe she would find it back and let it be - to give more attention to her daughter, to her friends and work. 

She keeps hoping for this, here... now.

But this wouldn't last. 

_ "Can't say the same about my stamina, can I?"  _

She closes her eyes, her fist clenched under her chin.

An off day, for sure. 

_ "Goodbye."  _

It's her breath against her skin, hers... not his. 

Opening her eyes, she tastes the cold coffee filling her cup, cringing with disgust. 

_ "Looks like someone needs a single malt cappuccino." _

She shakes her head, takes another sip. 

_ "A single malt latte?" _

"Get out of my head, Lucifer…" she sighs. 

Not expecting any real relief, Chloe is pulled out of her thoughts by a weak knock against the door. She lowers her cup, frowning. 

"Dan, is that you?" she asks, halfway to the door. 

Mug in hand, the other on the handle; she's still wondering who it can be while she lets the fresh air from the street rush inside her house. “Did Trixie forg—?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer you, Detective.”

Her gaze stops at a jaw; stubbly, tense. Without going higher, without going lower. She stops at the trembling Adam’s apple, a slight tremor… so slight. 

“I’ve barely joined the earthly game.”

Her hearing stops at the intonation, the British accent, at her panicked heartbeats. It stops at the noise of broken ceramic at her feet, her hand freed from her mug, from cold coffee. She stops at the hearing of this deep, slightly trembling breath. 

No.

No.

It's… It's an off day. Off him. 

He can’t be here. He—

It's an off day. 

Off. 

She blinks; each time with him, each time off doubts. He's not leaving, nor vanishing in the air like he always did in her memories, her nightmares. He's not moving, not talking. An off day is still possible. It's not the first time she— 

Chloe doesn’t look any higher, any lower.

She touches instead. 

She touches, only brushes the white shirt with her fingertips. No, it's grey. She touches the buttons, the stitchings, the snags under the jacket; she touches the jacket too. She touches the collar, the neck, the unmoving jaw. 

It's supposed to be an off day.

Off touch, off feeling, off… off him. 

Her breathing quickens. She's touching with both hands now. His chin, his cheekbones, his mouth. Her gaze finally follows her hands, her touch which keeps going higher and higher. Which stops right under his eyes. 

His eyes. 

It's—

"L-Lucifer?"

This gleam crossing his gaze, she can't have imagined it. The gleam can't vanish in the air; she's touching him, holding him, holding his face in her hands. He can't vanish, he's not a vision. 

It's him. 

This is his gaze.

This is his voice, "Chloe."

A breath against her skin is all she needs, not more than a smile - his. She doesn't need more to forget every off day, to pull him towards her, probably too fast, too abruptly... to be with him, to feel him fully here, with her. 

Chloe pulls him with all the strength that these off days have taken from her, Lucifer joins her, both unrestrained. 'Off' restraint seems fine to her, that's all she needs. His hands against her back, which nearly rip her robe in half, whose heat reaches her skin underneath; his fast breathing that never stops brushing her neck, their both raging heartbeats, in this tight embrace, off restraints, off real difference between the sounds of one or the other. 

No restraints. 

They end sitting on the threshold somehow; neither inside nor outside, in this space between, between emotions, off and on. He's with her, she's with him. She cries without holding back, he hugs her all the same, not caring about anything, anyone else but her. He laughs against her skin, his lips pecking light kisses along the line of her neck from where her tears arise.

"I haven't forgotten you, you see... you can feel it, can’t you?" 

He inhales deeply, makes her shiver, he shivers with her. 

With. 

With her. 

"How would I?" he whispers. 

Chloe's still sobbing, laughing, sobbing again; unable to stop, just listening to his voice and feeling his body against hers, seeing her tears soaking into the fabric of his collar, slightly changing its grey hue in some spots. She crumples the fabric, twists it between her fingers, scratches it with that missing rage from that night. She has missed this feeling for months, for so many off days. 

If their position is uncomfortable, perhaps embarrassing; he doesn't complain. He doesn't offer her to move, to live their relief in a less public place than her narrow threshold. He obliges her nothing, offers nothing more than this embrace that has no reason to stop, has every right to last. He doesn't oblige her to talk to him, to answer him. 

"I missed you, my love," he breathes later, much later. 

She smiles against his skin. "'My' l-love, uh?"

His hands move down in her back. 

"Too soon for this?" he worries. 

She shakes her head, not moving away from him; even for this. "Late," she corrects him. "Damn, m-much too late."

She's gonna burn the damn calendar. She will, later.

Lucifer flinches and starts to move away from her, just enough for their cheeks to touch. He sounds much more hesitant; "I... of course, I should have taken this into account. I can leave if that's what you w —"

Chloe digs her fingers deep into the fabric of his jacket, not caring much about accidentally hurting him. She can't stand to watch him walk away from her. He flinches again, but stops moving. 

"Don't you dare leave my arms!"

A laugh. 

"Who's a wee bit possessive now, hm?"

"Shut up, Lucifer," replies Chloe, rolling her eyes, smiling in spite of everything, her lips are numb to smile so much, for so long. 

So he shuts up, his breathing only echoing in the air, coming out of his lips. He's breathing fast, laboriously. She notices the way he relaxes in their embrace, he starts to be heavy in her trembling arms, more and more heavy with each passing minute. 

"Took you long enough," she says, stroking his hair with her hand. 

His fingers jerk in her back, his breath brushes her neck. 

"W-well, I'd… 'ladly used an U-Uber if I c'uld."

It takes him longer to breathe in - longer than it takes to exhale and then inhale again. 

"It would h'vebeenwa' f'ster…." he mutters, words and breath all mixed up in her hair.

"Lucifer?" 

No answer. Chloe holds on to his breath that means life, although he's unresponsive in her clumsy embrace. She runs her hand through his hair again, it's strewed with ashes and other undefined things. It's probably better not to wonder further about these kinds of details. She takes a deep long breath instead; so loud and so freely that it feels like her lungs have never known better air than this. 

She savours his sweaty skin against hers, the odd details in his hair between her fingers, the tears running down her eyelashes, tickling her cheeks. And her cheeks, god... her cheeks wearing this smile unwilling to disappear, willing to make her feel 'whole', make her feel everything at once, everything Lucifer has brought with him. 

He's with her, he came back. 

And, finally, she comes back to life. 

*

Empty glass, her hands turning it from one side to the other on her lap; Chloe is still coming back to this moment, to the memory of Lucifer's body weighing against hers, to this whole day and night sleeping on the couch - where his last remains of strength had abandoned him; where he had collapsed, utterly exhausted. She always comes back to her encouraging him to follow her to the living room, one wobbly step after another to reach this couch, this promise of rest. She comes back to his tired features, drained by torments she can hardly imagine, coming back to his hand that had held on to hers, that hadn't let go of her once. 

She comes back to that 'renewed' feeling, how she came back to life, how it had marked his return that day. 

Everything keeps feeling 'more' than usual to her, she's been feeling so much since he's been back. 

**_"Go-.... See you later, Chloe."_ **

Too much, too intensely. 

When she finally comes back to the files all over her bed, Chloe sighs wearily, then turns the empty glass between her fingers one more time, receptors of intense sensations, like the rest of her body, mind and soul. 

She gathers this mess of paperwork to throw it towards the floor. She should take a break. Empty glass put down, light off and blanket lifted on her body which is no longer 'hers', she looks at the lunar reflections through the curtains. 

Two weeks, only two weeks. 

Morpheus' arms come around her. Chloe wishes desperately for other arms around her waist, other hands on her body. 

She can only hope for a better tomorrow.

**Tbc**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chap will bring the first Lucifer's POV and first session with Linda ;)  
> Loooooots of dialogues!  
> I hope you liked this chap as much as the previous ones (couldn't wait to share this one in particular ^^)
> 
> See you next time  
> (dunno when - Christmas is coming :D)


	5. Mythologised unpleasantness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the summary, indeed. This dialogue fits more with the spirit of the story. X) 
> 
> I had to cut sooner than I planned, so Linda/Lucifer scene will be for another chap, as much as Lucifer POV. Sorry about that. (Still thinking of how I will tell the next events, I won't promise any other scenes until I make my decision).  
> This chapter is full of dialogues - Enjoy!
> 
> Also, thanks for the hits, comments & bookmarks. =3
> 
> Music advice :  
> Porcelain | Skott (MrSuicideSheep)  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/5L6mKOF7MKu6IYHGqxH998?si=eX05Ien1RbSIb2OvlpWhgg

**MYTHOLOGISED UNPLEASANTNESS**

5

* * *

From Trixie's questions to the strictly metaphorical arms of Morpheus, the Devil follows her effortlessly. He has haunted her dreams at night, has settled in her thoughts since she has woken up and has kept doing so since then. 

It's more and more intense.

This morning's heavy 'settling' hasn't taken long to come. Chloe didn't even have time to get ready for it. Again.

"How's Lucifer doing?" Linda asks her.

Chloe inadvertently spills coffee on her counter and quickly soaks it up, as much annoyed by her reaction as by Lucifer's systematic settling in each of her conversations. 

But what did she expect? 

His return is very recent. 

And it is a fair  _ return,  _ everyone asking her about Lucifer in exchange for their kind listening while he was gone. She can't ask them to not listen now. 

"H-He's... mh," she mumbles. "Haven't you seen him since he came back?" 

Linda shakes her head as the sun's rays coming through the living room window change the tops of her blonde hair to gold. 

"Barely," she says. 

"He didn't come to your place to see Charlie? Or Amenadiel?" 

"He did, but he never stayed long enough to know how he was doing. I should be used to it," adds then the therapist. "He's been avoiding real conversations since the Beginning of Time." 

"Since the 'Beginning of Time'?" repeats Chloe. She places two cups of steaming coffee on the cleaned counter. "How can you know?"

"Amenadiel." Linda smirks, her mischievous gaze is slightly blurry with the roasted steam rising from her cup. "He told me some juicy stories about him, from the time when they still were…" she quotes the last words in quotation marks with her free hand, perfectly imitating Amenadiel's pompous voice;  _ "God's obedient soldiers." _

Chloe smiles in turn, playing along.  _ "If my brother could remove this obedient stick from his bloody arse for once!"  _

Her imitation was second-rate, but it still has the merit of making them laugh early in the morning. Chloe feels the weight in her chest lessen. It's not much, however it's more than she has hoped for these last months. Laughs against tears, long conversations against the heavy silences; Linda helped her escape from the void that threatened to destroy her. 

Trixie is her daughter; Chloe is her mother. She couldn't resolve to impose her pain on her in addition to her absence. 

Dan's her friend, but first and foremost, he's Trixie's dad. And one of them must take care of Trixie when one of them fails to do it. It had been her turn.

Ella is...  _ Ella.  _ A friend, but she couldn't understand what Chloe had been going through, in which state Lucifer's departure had left her. She hadn't even known why he'd left. If Chloe would have tried to explain it to her, Ella would have thought she had joined Lucifer in his weird method acting - He, the Devil and she, the Queen.

Amenadiel had been focused on his son lately. She can't blame him, especially after what happened. She might have lost the man - devil and angel - she loved, but he had lost his brother for Charlie's safety, for everyone's. 

Mazikeen, then? A raging mad demon who's been abandoned by her former master and partner in earthly vacation until the last one, which had lasted longer than both of them could have foreseen. She'd been trapped on Earth, once again left alone among these emotional humans newly called 'family' when her first family had disappeared in a rustle of wings on a balcony. 

Linda, on the other hand, is the only human she knows who has met the Devil. She'd seen him, listened to him, comforted him - some of the things Chloe had done as well. She had understood her weakness in front of the truth, she had  _ really _ understood her. Turning to each other after that night had been only natural. They allow each other's weakness, strength and human mediocrity balancing from one to the other, according to their needs. 

An escape. 

A strength. 

Let's go with the escape today.

"Clever"

"What's that?" asks Chloe, blowing on her cup. 

"Answering my question with another one. That's clever," Linda congratulates her. 

"Not so much if you saw it coming."

Linda shrugs, then puts her glasses up her nose. They have a scratch that wasn't there three days ago. Maybe Charlie's doing. He's as adorable as he's untenable sometimes. Something he surely gets from his celestial bloodline, at least that's what her friend thinks. But Chloe's opinion about it isn't the same, especially when one knows what Linda is capable of. 

"I'm a therapist. I can't take credit for it." 

"Speaking of, weren't you planning to go back to work this morning?" Chloe continues, blowing again and again without the cup collapsing. 

She'd probably have to blow harder than that to wipe that suspicious look off her friend's face. She really is a second-rated wolf in front of Linda's brick-built features.

"Yes," she says, her suspicion is replaced by another feeling. "But I'm still reluctant to leave Charlie alone for hours." 

"He won't be. Amenadiel is with him, right? You're worrying too much." 

"I know, but I can't help it. It has a name, hasn't it?" 

Chloe nods, smiling again. "Motherhood." 

"Right! Anyway... I miss my work, I really do; but it’s difficult to leave him for so long. I know Lucifer assured me that the demons were under control and that this new arrangement with his Father would prevent any further rebellions… I can't help but feeling anxious nonetheless, whenever I leave the house."

Chloe pauses when she hears Lucifer's name, her cup close enough to her lips for her to taste rather than blow the roasted aroma of the coffee. She makes eye contact with Linda, far from being fooled, so little 'blown away' by her friend's vain attempts. 

"Another clever move of yours, changing the subject," she tells her. 

Shrugging, Chloe lowers her cup to her chin. "I'm a cop, I can't take credit for it."

"You really don't want to talk about him or you just don't know what to say?" 

Chloe sighs. Nothing to do with her previous attempts to collapse Linda's guess or to blow hot coffee for her sore throat from her restless night. 

"Probably both."

Linda leans forwards, her forearms pressed against the counter and her hands around her cup. "Let's try with something simpler then. How  _ you _ 're doing lately _?"  _

It takes a few seconds for Chloe to answer. "You said 'something simpler'," she mutters, looking away. 

"It is. Its answer isn't, though."

"I see that you're more than ready to get back to work." 

"Come on, Chloe." 

She pinches her lips with shifting eyes, tapping her foot and shrugging. Her body answers for her, doesn't it? These are Lucifer's effects on her body and emotions, sometimes powerful, sometimes shifty. 

"It's, mh... It feels like I'm completely messed up from the inside out. As if I'd lost everything I learned about me, about emotions and feelings so far - like I just 'regressed', somehow?"

"Do you have any examples in mind?" 

"Yesterday. I came to Lucifer's defense. Dan just couldn’t shut up about all the Mayan Temple thing and I —"

"There's nothing wrong with standing up for someone you care about with your ex, is there?"

"No, there's not but it's the way I did it that bothers me, Linda. I've been... I brought up the Palmetto case to shut him up. That has been behind us for a long time and I didn't hesitate to use it as a cheap shot here. For Lucifer." She shakes her head. "This isn't normal."

"There's nothing 'normal' whenever Lucifer is involved," says the therapist with sympathy. "Although your reaction here seems understandable to me, given everything you've been through lately."

Chloe continues, "Maybe. But other things happened." 

"What 'things'?"

"These feelings when he's standing right next to me, when he's not or when he’s gone. These thoughts crossing my mind, this desire coming out from nowhere… it's driving me nuts, like all the time!"

She sips her coffee, which has cooled down from her feelings and simple answers. She then notices her friend's smile. From the previous one, sympathetic, comes this amused gleam she knew so well. It's the kind of gleam that Linda is dying to share with others, that she needs to make them understand its meaning through long discussions first. 

This is the consummate therapist's gleam.

"What?" she exclaims, sounding a bit annoyed. 

"Nothing, it just sounds oddly familiar. I'd swear I know the definition of this symptom, it's on the tip of my tongue! What is it, hm?"

"Okay, stop. Linda… stop. This has nothing to do with… you know what."

"'With'?" repeats Linda, teasing her. "I don't know, but looks like you do."

"I hate you."

"Well, that's the antonym of what you know, Chloe."

She briefly shuts her eyes, taking a deep breath. "This isn't 'love' we're talking about! Well yes, but that's not just it; it's a-about…"

"Love?"

_ "Yes!" _

Keeping up without letting Chloe think further about what she's saying, Linda insists, still smiling; "And it's bothering you, isn't it?"

"Of course it is!"

Chloe laughs, there's no joy in it, just the noisy exhalation of her fears, of these sensations which - even if Linda thinks otherwise - are more complicated than some 'simple' demonstration of love between her and the Devil. 

"Things have gotten confusing since he's been back, Linda. My feelings; what I feel, what he feels. It's like there's no real boundaries between my 'human' love for him and this 'literal' love that binds us to each other, like he says. He didn't say much more about it. 'Literal love'..." she repeats lower. "What does that even mean?"

She looks at Linda who's giving her another sympathetic smile. "It's hard to explain."

"I get that. I —" She sighs, "I just wish he'd try to, as much as I'm trying to have a tiny grasp of all this."

Chloe knows she's being unfair, but… to be honest, she is not even sure she can control this. Of course, Lucifer didn't try to explain more, but she didn't try to find out more either since he came back. 

She kept quiet about the rest. They both did. 

*****

Two weeks earlier

*****

She'd waited a few minutes. 

Then ten, twenty, half an hour; until an hour has passed, and that another has started. 

She'd waited a few more minutes, until another hour had passed. 

Then she had knocked on the door.

"Lucifer?" 

A few more minutes listening to the water flowing behind the door and she opens it, repeating her question to the curls of vapor stuck inside. "Lucifer?" 

No answer, still this water flowing.

Chloe just stands there, she doesn't know what to do. Lucifer has been in the bathroom for so long that she wouldn't have been surprised if he turned into water himself, after so much time spent under that scalding flow that's seeping down her throat, the door barely ajar. She didn't try to bother him before this moment, aware that he needed time for himself once he mostly recovered from... well, from whatever might have happened down there. 

She needed some time for herself, too.

After an entire day and night to watch him sleep, she must look like shit as well. There weren't disgusting remains of... of that 'something' from Hell on her, but she had a pretty good guess of what she looked like.

They were the ghosts of the people they left or saw leaving that night.

So, once Lucifer had disappeared in her bathroom to regain his former appearance under an endless flood of scalding water, Chloe had done her best to regain hers. It's like putting on an old coat; liked but forgotten in a dusty corner, the kind of clothing that you discover anew after years and years. And you can't even recall why you left it in a corner. 

It's heavy, lightweight; it fills the emptiness within her, it turns it deeper too. It's a lot to 'come back' to yourself. 

She puts her hand on the doorframe, still holding the handle with the other. Still swinging in the space between. 

"Chloe...."

Swinging towards this drowned murmur, she comes in, not thinking once about him 'coming back to himself'. It's only when the door is closed that she becomes aware of her intrusion in his intimacy. Half-turned towards the door, she can see the empty corner of the tub where the shower head lets the water run abundantly.

Where is —

Her eyes catch a movement, it's brief. She looks at Lucifer just as briefly, he's sitting at the other end of the tub, his arms pressed against his knees; a firm, trembling mass of naked angel in her tub. 

Her tub. 

Naked. 

Naked.

Chloe turns around sharply, her forehead pressed against the damp wood of the door. She shuts her eyes, although she knows she can't see anything from here. 

"I-I… Sorry, I just —"

She breathes in, lets the vapour get inside her throat. 

The bathroom has turned into a damn sauna, how can he even stay here without batting an eyelid? 

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. So... so, I'm gonna —" she stammers.

"'ld."

"What?" 

A few seconds pass before she hears his voice again; hoarse, shaky. She's shaking too.

"C-cold." 

Chloe turns around, his privacy totally put aside as she watches him more closely. Lucifer hasn't moved and keeps his face buried in his arms, which are shaking strongly despite the surrounding heat. God, she can almost see his pale skin having goose bumps from here. 

How could she not have seen this earlier? 

He trembled in his sleep, but she thought it was due to nightmares. His tremors had never lasted more than a few seconds, sometimes a minute moreover. He didn't say anything about it, let alone show anything when he opened his eyes - just this smile, his smile that she had nearly forgotten.

She didn't  _ see. _

"Damn it, Lucifer!" she hisses, as much to him as to herself. "Why didn't you say anything?!" 

She turns off the shower head, then turning on the main faucet. Lucifer barely lifts his head from the trembling shelter of his arms to answer her. His lips haven't turned blue yet, but almost. 

"I-I j'st...d-did."

Chloe rolls her eyes. "Right. Why didn't you say anything  _ earlier _ ?" 

She pushes with her foot at his clothes scattered around the tub. Lucifer doesn't answer, the back of his skull pressed against the wall dripped of water unable to warm him up. He gulps, his neck muscles quivering, his gaze unfocused. 

Holding back her frustration, Chloe checks the water temperature, urging Lucifer to stay awake. Calling an ambulance for the King of Hell who's suffering from severe hypothermia is the last thing she wants to do.

**-xXx-**

"Who would ever believe that the Devil prefers water to flames, mh?" 

The so-called watery creature opens one eye, half a glance - lucid, hurt in his pride. A few drops of this privileged water rolls under his chin, then falls into the watery multitude below, the very one where he seems to have a good time. 

His bathing lasts for a 'moment', judging by the cramp raising from Chloe's foot to her calf. Anyway, she's reluctant to move off the floor. She's good enough sitting here, looking at him relaxed enough, 'good enough' to look at her. Even if he still hasn't moved his temple away from the wall, even if it's just from one eye. 

This is something. 

It's him.

"This is hot water, Detective. It's devilish enough for any believer." 

Hot or not, Lucifer shivers. He does so every now and then, despite the water temperature being well beyond human standards - Chloe doesn't even dare to dip a finger into it, her face is red enough from its vapour to think otherwise. Yet, he keeps shivering.

But he manages to reply to her teasing without chattering; he must be feeling better. 

"You're sure this is hot enough for you?" she asks him. 

Moving from her half-sitting position on the floor, mostly uncomfortable, she moves her hand towards the faucet before he even answers her. He grabs it halfway, heat and water wrapping around her palm. Lucifer's hand no longer trembles. 

Chloe holds her breath.

She can still feel his hands stroking her cheeks, his fingers on her tear-stained chin. They were tears then. One water like another, another drips from their joined hands, joined to the water undulating around the Devil's muscular body. 

Chloe lets her gaze linger on their fingers, Lucifer's more than hers. She lets her gaze slowly lift further; wrist, elbow and biceps. Right up to the line of his neck. 

This is the second time they really, consciously touch each other. 

"Don't bother yourself, love. It's fine."

Not freeing herself from his grip, she finally allows her eyes to move back to his face. Two eyes open to hers, ringed but keen. The second time they really look at each other, too. 

She remembers to breathe. 

"Where 'my love' goes?"

His expression changes instantly and he averts his gaze from hers. She has rarely seen him like this, hesitant and... a bit clumsy in his body language. The last time was when —

Wasn't it during their date? 

_ "Detective. You look... beautiful." _

It seemed like ages ago. 

_ It was _ . 

Probably more for him than for her, but it's all about perspective, right?

He lets go of her hand, then plunging his own into the water. Chloe's breathing doesn't make things easier for her. His is slow, so slow for her raging heartbeats. She watches him moving backwards, as much as he can in her tub, which was far too small for him. He leans his back against the edge, his bent legs piercing hot water, his movements followed by a slight lapping. She restrains herself from looking down, beyond this watery transparency. Between his legs, past his lower belly, as muscular as the rest. 

She forgets how to breathe. 

"I'd prefer not to make you feel uncomfortable, Detective," Lucifer tells her, not looking away from the steaming water. 

She focuses on what he's saying, giving it sense, she reacts to it a few seconds late. He doesn't notice. 

"I'm not, don't worry. I just... I just need time to get used to it." 

Sitting on the edge of the tub and facing him, Chloe adds, "I —  'm still trying to get used to you being here, actually." 

Lucifer lifts his chin, gazing at her for a long time. He shivers, forcing his tired features to allow half a smile on his lips.

"That makes two of us, Dect— _Chloe,_ " he corrects himself after a slight hesitation.

She smiles too. 

"Feeling uncomfortable?"

He arches an eyebrow. "I'm the Devil, dear. I never feel this way."

"Obviously."

Chloe can't help but smile, it's almost painful. She reuses muscles that she has more or less willingly forgotten for a while. It is as unpleasant as exhilarating to feel what she's feeling right now. She feels unstoppable, she feels beatable. Exhilarating, exhausting. 

Intriguing too. 

The silence settling between them, Chloe takes a better look at Lucifer as soon as he closes his eyes. He looks like the Lucifer who left her at the penthouse. Less time than she thought might have passed in Hell, how can she estimate how long it has been for him anyway?

Time on Earth is relative. 

Time in Hell is….

What's time there?

At least he'd been there as long as she was here, when she was crying for him, when she was seeing him everywhere around. She can tell it by seeing all these superficial wounds, these bruises - one's as big as a closed fist at the base of his neck, one as long as a finger on his right biceps. A deeper gash crosses his torso, a straight line, up to his ribs. It looks almost completely healed, it lightens the Devil's turbulent path. 

He’s had plenty of time to recover from wounds like these, so…

It's been more than six months, it must be. But how long exactly?

What other kind of wound would he have got after more time spent down there? What else would have happened to him if he hadn't come back to her? What if he never had? 

"Why?" she asked aloud, a puzzled whisper after which Lucifer opens his eyes again. 

"Why 'what'?"

"Why did you come back?"

Before he can misunderstand her question, Chloe leans forward, until she touches his elbow resting on the edge of the tub. She feels water and flames under her palm, without burning or drowning her. 

"I'm... I'm happy - there's no word to express how happy I am to see you again, but I thought…." 

She lets out a sigh, brought back to this painful moment. 

_ "Don't go." _

"I thought that you were gone for... for good?" 

Is he here for good? 

He's here, right before her, but... is it for good as well? She wouldn't let go of that 'coat', not again. Another day off 'him' would be one too much to bear for her. Chloe's taken by surprise by her own thoughts - what exactly is she thinking? She's not that desperate, she hadn't been for the last six months. 

Grief, anger, abandonment, helplessness; yes. 

But this despair roaring in the depths of her soul, it's... it's new.

"I was, indeed. I wasn't planning on coming back." 

She reads many things in his eyes; regret, resignation, pain. 

Her fingers squeeze his arm. And he doesn't want to leave. She sees, feels it with just a look; under water, through this fire his skin's releasing. It's going through her. 

Still, it's about the same thing; another departure, she feels this too.

Burned, drowned; Chloe prefers to sink deeper - coward and desperate - instead of facing the inevitable truth once again. She has a lump in her throat but she pinches her lips, asks cowardly; "What changed then?" 

Stroking his face with one hand, he looks for words. It doesn't seem to bother him if they don't talk about the least pleasant part. Chloe looks at his hand, his ring, gleaming with darkness - more than she remembers. 

"Well, strictly speaking, nothing did. I doubt I can explain such intricate conception through human argot, to be honest."

Chloe frowns when she hears 'argot'. She sits up, pulling her hand away from his dialectical superiority. 

"I doubt I'll ever be able to speak another argot," she takes offence. "I  _ am _ human." 

"More or less, darling," he whispers, a shadow crossing his gaze without erasing his amused expression. 

Before she can question him further about this, Lucifer continues; "So far be it from me to question your intelligence, Detect — Chloe. You need to understand that angels - of whom I no longer am part, but are nevertheless where most of my knowledge comes from - don't have the same conception of the world as yours, even less the same language to explain it. Your vocabulary is as limited to your perceptions as our vocabulary is to ours. Although being the Devil awarded me a bonus here."

"Because Hell has its own language?" Chloe figures out.

"Precisely. You're speaking to the most rigorous Interspecies Encyclopedia of the Universe!"

"Splashing around in my tub," she adds. 

Lucifer glares at her, outraged. "I am certainly  _ not. _ "

She arched an eyebrow. "Maybe you're right. I'm limited to my own perceptions, right?" 

"Clearly…" he grumbles. 

Although Chloe is amused by his grumpy look, she doesn't know what to think of this introduction, this universal lexicon that he doubts he can simplify for her. If she's not already aware of the gaping hole standing between her humanity and Lucifer's immortality, this kind of conversation puts things into perspective. 

Perspective. 

Perception. 

"There must be a 'human perceivable' term to explain why you're here, don't you think?" she insists. "I need to know, Lucifer, I need to understand." 

He sighs deeply, it points out how embarrassed he is even if she can't tell why. Will she ever be able to? 

"Well, in human perceivable terms…" he says at last, not looking at her. "We're both enduring Persephone's mythologised unpleasantness.So I was told...." 

Chloe blinks. 

Once. Twice. 

"Persephone?" It's all she manages to say from her actual human confusion. Quickly followed by; "'Both enduring'?" 

"It's hard to explain, I told you, but the Persephone's myth is a starting point like any other, I guess. Persephone was the daughter of a goddess - again, according to your human perceptions —"

"So she wasn't?" 

Chloe noticed that the myths and beliefs about the Devil are mostly superstitious and hateful nonsense. But does that mean that the rest is as much far away from the truth? History from centuries, millenia even… even from their human limited perception, really? They were right for some things though, some things they had told with a fair degree of accuracy. 

God exists. Satan does exist, he's taking a bath in the steaming waters of her 'limited' tub.. Lucifer is indeed his Father's son, he did rebel against his Father. Eve is real so —

"She is, well... you _ are,"  _ then Lucifer reveals to her. 

Chloe is totally lost. She shakes her head. "I-I don't... "

"This story is a 'myth' for humans, Uriel would have defined it as a 'possible pattern'. See? It's all about vocabulary."

"But what is it all about, Lucifer? And who's Uriel?"

Lucifer freezes, trembling and not moving the second after. His features harden.

"My brother. He was pretty gifted at defining these possible patterns and delivering them to others, whether they cared about his infuriating babbling or not. Persephone's story isn't about the past, nor lost human history - it's about a possible future." 

Chloe notices how he used the past tense for his brother, but she feels this isn't the time to push him about Uriel. Lucifer's sudden tension alone is a sign for letting go. She's doing her best to follow the Devil's perception and that's enough to keep her mind busy, anyway. She almost regrets the void of the previous months. 

"You mean... like the prophecy Kinley was obsessed about? Where exactly did it come from?"

"Once again, from a lack of vocabulary. Some humans can perceive more," explains Lucifer, more relaxed than before. "But perception isn't understanding, Chloe. We've seen it at our expense with the last prophecy. Stubborn as you all are, you couldn't help but put words to each of your discoveries; no matter how much your translation is under par, right?" 

"Okay, okay, but —" she cuts him off. "What does Persephone's myt —  _ pattern _ have to do with me?" 

Persephone, Persephone. Persephone's myth; Chloe read it somewhere. Trixie had been fascinated by fairy tales, both old and new . She bought her a book a few weeks ago, about myths and legends from different civilizations. There was Persephone's story, vague memories of bedtime stories.. 

A kind woman. The God of the Underworld who had fallen in love with her and —

Panic-stricken, Chloe stares at Lucifer - the actual God of the Underworld, in love with her - a kind woman. "This isn't about me going to Hell, is it?" 

He scoffs, although he seems offended by what she just said. Of course, Lucifer would never force her to come with him, anywhere; she knows he wouldn't. She knows he's true to his word, to her principles. He would never trample anyone's freewill underfoot. 

But Persephone was... no, _she's supposed_ _to_ be held captive by the Lord of Hell, she will be Queen, eat some fruit or any other hellish food and she will help him to rule his kingdom. It's a possible pattern, their mythologised unpleasantness as he said earlier. 

So….

"Never. I'd die before it happens, Chloe."

He hasn't stumbled over her name this time.

She noticed. So did he. 

"No, it's about…." Lucifer hesitates, he clenches his fist on the edge of the tub before meeting her curious gaze. She urges him to continue with an arched eyebrow, which he does - not without first taking a deep breath. 

Whatever he must reveal now, it seems to require all his breathing abilities. 

"This is about our last...  _ declaration." _

Chloe gets what he means with his obvious discomfort and his shifting gaze. It's all about vocabulary, perception. 

Their last declaration.

_ "I love you." _

"Oh." 

She frowns.

"O-Okay?" she answers back, nevertheless confused. "I — And is that a problem or... ?"

Lucifer smiles. 

"It undoubtedly is for some people, yes. Michael made it quite clear when he took over my royal duties down there," he says casually, pointing to the purplish bruise on his neck. 

"Wh — ?! Michael?" 

He shrugs, wincing as soon as he moves his scratched muscles. 

"Another brother of mine, not the nicest. Nor the smartest. Just a winged mass of rage and blind devotion, if you ask me." 

"But why?" 

Resting his head on the edge, Lucifer lets out a sigh as soon as his neck is relieved from this painful tension. His eyes, already half-closed, notice Chloe's deeply upset expression. 

"Why what, Detective?" he mumbles slowly. "Why is it a problem for Michael and my Father that we've declared our feelings for each other? Why did Michael express his displeasure with his fists? Or…"

He tries to hold back a yawn, fails and then blinks. "...why is he replacing me in Hell for a while? Choose your poison, dear."

Chloe's eyes are wide-opened, Lucifer's questions - or answers, she can't tell which vocabulary was close enough from his perception - swirling painfully in her mind. 

Their 'love' is a problem f-for… God?! It's…. 

_ Oh, my G _ _ — _

Lucifer was talking about Persephone only five minutes ago!

Highlighting the difference setting between their perception is an understatement, this  _ is _ Chloe's perception. She takes a deep breath, perceiving many fears and panic at the edge of her rational thoughts. 

"I choose the three!"

A second yawn, totally free of control, tenses his features. He opens his mouth, his head lolling to one side - towards the wall-, then to the other, towards the edge of the tub. 

"Well, I... That's a problem because I can't stay in Hell forever now that I'm literally yours, now that you're literally mine. It would have ended up badly for both of us- the Devil can't die on them, can he? Also, my royal duties took a very literal turn at the temple back then, so… a problem, it is for sure. L'ke Persephone."

His head chooses the wall, which is bigger and far more comfortable. 

"Michael does love using his fists on me aaand... He's replac'ng me because…" 

Eyes shut, Lucifer whispers his answer at the water's edge. Chloe stares at him, torn between annoyance and concern. 

"Lucifer? Lucifer, hey!" 

He barely flinches. "Hm?"

"'Because'?"

He breathes in and out slowly; already too far from her to catch him, neither to hold him for long. He can't even open his eyes again. He lets syllables modeling his lips, which already wears a peaceful sleepy smile. 

"B'c'se…" he slurs."God s'id.. so. M'de a deal, Him 'nd I."

"A deal? What kind of deal? Lucifer?" 

Lucifer stays silent, sleeping soundly in the cooled water. Her questions have exhausted him, so it seems; many things - including his brother Michael - have exhausted him. She looks at him, wondering what she should do now. Sleeping there until the water turns freezing cold isn't a good idea, especially since she knows he's vulnerable near her, but Chloe doesn't want to wake him up. Just… not yet. 

His sleep had been full of nightmares the night and day before; he needs this. Even God seems to think so, for allowing him to come back to her. 

For a while.

Lucifer said 'for a while'. 

For a while, it's her single estimation. He's here for a while. 

Chloe sighs, putting her concerns aside to watch him once again, himself free of any concerns, any possible patterns or lack of vocabulary for a while. She puts her hand on his cheek when he trembles once more, silencing it with her touch. 

He's here. 

It matches with her perceptions.

She can silence the rest for a while. 

**Tbc**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! More explanations about his return - slurred in his bath, but still. I knoooow, I love cliffhangers (even tiny one). I'll explain further through the story.
> 
> Next publication in a few weeks (it's holidaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy!)  
> Thanks for reading & see u soon!  
> (also, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year)


	6. The worst of remaining Eternity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! (We're still in January, it still counts)  
> (Thanks for your support on the last chapter, last year - naaaah, it hasn't been that long!)  
> Lucifer's POV - I did it this time. I hope you'll like it as much as Chloe's POVs so far. Lots of introspection, doubts, misunderstanding… You know him, right?  
> Let's read this!
> 
> Music  
> __  
> Little for your lovin' (Electrifying mood) | Sonny Cleveland.  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/45zMNgcpqcm1Hf3WavUtpW?si=i_QZ50R0R8q4Tk64bgJ0Rw

**THE WORST OF REMAINING ETERNITY**

6

* * *

Earth.

Hell. 

The first sound of these words is harmonious, oddly close; like these two places can be geographically. It's not an easy task to map the grounds of Hell, to put your way out of there until reaching Earth. That being said, celestial roads aren't terrestrial - another harmonious sound but quite different from what Lucifer had experienced two weeks ago. 

Two earthly weeks.

Earthly.

Earth. 

He can still feel the brute - chaotic, one might say - forces of the different plans he passed by during his slow raising from the depths of the world. If he stretches his shoulder muscles, as his more angelic than devilish wings linked to them, the throbbing memory of his travel then comes to present time. Letting out a sigh that turns into a slight grunt of discomfort, Lucifer almost deplores his taste for tailor-made suits, they don't suit his sore surnatural muscles. He's not in a lot of pain, though - going back home is worth all of this, Chloe is, even if his wings take their time to heal properly. 

He feels good, to be honest; better than he expected. 

It appears there is only one step, one quick flap of wings from his unsettling deadness in Hell to him on Earth, bursting with life. Lucifer couldn't have hoped for better after Michael's feisty explanations along with those of His Father's Messenger. Gabriel had always been a servile orator but his dissonant behavior had been welcomed,  especially after his other brother's vivid expression on the Devil's dying body. At least, that made one of them who didn’t want to beat him up for pleasure, to subdue the 'Original Evil'. Sure, Lucifer never said no to a fight with Michael before. Regardless of his old habits, his situation has changed. 

This place hasn't, though. 

He comes closer to the window and moves the blinds to let some light inside. Light as much as darkness reinforce his feeling. There is a pleasurable steadfastness in it, on Earth in general. This is where the hellish-earthly consonance stops. 

Earth isn't Hell. Their dissimilarity is a matter of details; the hold of time is just one example - its passing, like the thin stroke of light that is ascending the desk, moving from one picture to another, to the opposite edge. Time in Hell is too slow to let the light establish itself; it never tried to, stuck behind unchanging skies of ash. 

Lucifer steps away from the window and walks around the desk, slowing his steps once he’s behind the seat, his gaze caught by a particular picture. It isn’t a big one, neither beautiful with its hues nor its composition. No, its particularity comes from a detail that piques his curiosity, he’s puzzled even. He brushes Chloe’s smile with his hand – a light, almost forced smile. It's the one she has when she has to deal with some unpleasant suspects or witnesses for whom she feels very little empathy. Although her expression seems for him, given how her gaze is on him while he talks with Linda. He can’t tell what they were talking about when this picture was taken, obviously taken without his agreement. He would never have allowed it, not from this angle. 

He would never have let Linda expose him this way, not looking his best at all; frowning, grimacing for some forgotten social annoyance. Where does this picture come from, anyway? Why would she want to show him so openly to others in her office? To patients, colleagues or friends? He doesn’t see other pictures of her patients here, though.

What a disturbing detail of change.

Lucifer places the picture back to its place and turns another towards the shy sun rays coming through the blind. Another sign of change is the profuse material proofs of his therapist's all new motherhood. He'd never understand human parents, their compulsive needs to make a show of a newborn's presence in their life. Walls, pictures, short films going along with drool and awful cries… the media invasion is a bloody nuisance. Linda is no exception. She is human, after all. Also, he knows Amenadiel is fond of human education, even if his last doubts on the matter had nearly led Charlie to an early celestial raising. An early celestial 'depression' sounds more accurate. Lucifer is glad about this change. Celestial education and parental approval - which he didn't get very often himself - could be preferable to this human media display. Being scorned by your family, on the other hand… this compulsive lack of interest for each other, this obsession not to stray from God's lead, to marginalise  _ him _ without remorse - Charlie can surely do his own path without that.

Lucifer takes a closer look at the picture. 

His nephew doesn't look a day older. Of course, he is aware that oldness is a matter of closer death, of mortals. Mortal, Charlie Luc Martin - also named 'Canaan' after his dad's treason and human administrations - is only half of it. Lucifer shakes his head. His nickname isn't made for second place, it sounds bloody wrong. The word, mortal, sounds wrong as well. Angels aren't mortal. And still, angels bleed, they even procreate now. It is surprising to see how much the world has changed in the space of a few human years. Only the future would tell where this change would stop, where his nephew's immortality - his genetic divinity - would start.

Anyway, older or not, Lucifer expected something different. Charlie certainly has grown a bit, he doesn't look as frail as he was the last time his uncle had seen him. However, he doesn't seem able to speak yet. He makes odd noises sometimes, annoying and piercing sounds every time Lucifer starts to talk. He cries more noisily when his uncle stops talking completely. Consequently, Lucifer has been forced to shorten his visits and to find a quieter alternative for his reunion with his former therapist. 

That's why he is here so early, looking for details, proofs of a real change between the moment he left and his return. 

Six months spread between pictures, the rearrangement of the furnitures and the decoration for a single noisy human being. The Detective's spawn looks like a saint next to him. Beatrice must have changed a bit too, although her mother looks as gorgeous as always to him. 

Lucifer closes his eyes. He thinks over yesterday, over what he did, what he can't help himself to do. Gabriel has explained to him; these side effects, what him, belonging body and soul to a human blessed by God, implies. With or without his brother's explanations, Lucifer had already understood that something was wrong with him. Since he had left Chloe on the balcony, since he had stopped touching her, to hear her voice, to see her… it had been like he had been 'dispoiled' of something. It hadn't just been a sensation, a feeling of loss, of grief or something alike. 

No. It was different. 

He had felt different; demons had felt it, as Hell had. 

Lucifer had had to avoid more murder attempts than at the dawn of his reign. It had been a humdrum everyday life where neither the blood of his enemies, nor his slaves' or traitors' had been able to fill this void within him. First seen as a weakness, this change in him had then become a symbol of strength, fearful respect for the King of Hell. He didn't fear anyone, nor feel any pity, any rage that his opponents could have used against him. In that, the prophecy had looked complete. 

Isn't that it, 'Evil'? No more feelings?

Evil had been released. 

Lucifer has reached the middle of the office and the 'therapeutic' space where he hadn't sat for quite a while. His steps remind him of past ones, aimless, depressed, lifeless - between the dark cells of his kingdom. 

_ His _ kingdom. 

He passes his hand on the fabric of the couch.

_ His _ home. 

The consonance stops there. 

The feeling of emptiness had left him since the moment when Chloe had opened her door. Seeing her face again, her gaze that hadn't been able to meet his at first. But she had found him, it had been an unmatched explosion. He keeps bursting into flames; for a gaze, a word. He cares, feels again. 

He feels so many things. Too many. But she helps him; Chloe helps him settle himself in reality, to care about details. Good manners in public, with the Douche, with people in general…. She helps, when she doesn't draw him further in this upheaval of sensations, when she's not the main one responsible for it. Does she do more good than hurt?

If she does, he doesn't bloody care. 

She helps him 'live' again.

Life is a matter of humanity. Lucifer had lost sight of it, the Devil busied with other problems back then. Human principles and reactions;  _ reactions _ \- that's why he came here. 

He can't lose sight of the most important. 

Sitting down on the couch, Lucifer doesn't have to wait long before Linda passes the door and him. He waits for her to put her purse on the desk to report his presence. "I've known you to be more punctual, Doctor."

Linda turns so sharply that she drops her purse, its contents spreading all over the floor - a baby's bottle trundling to the Devil's feet. 

"F—! Lucifer!"

"What's this, a therapy item of sorts?" he asks her curiously about the bottle, turning it in his hands. 

"W- No, of course not. It's Charlie's."

Linda has trouble calming her breathing. Once she does, she kneels on the floor, picking up the contents of her purse with Lucifer's help, who is eager to get rid of his nephew's sticky drool. He never thinks he would regret touching a moist tip one day. 

"Why did you bring this? Does he need therapy already?"

"My son's six months old, Lucifer, I doubt he's even able to express problems as complicated as my usual patients are," Linda answers annoyingly. 

"I doubt he's able to express anything useful anyway."

"Why are you here, Lucifer?" she asks him as soon as she has picked up everything.

"Well, I understand that you were resuming work this morning. I thought…" he checks his watch. "I thought you'd start earlier, actually. I might have been mistaken about your schedule."

She shakes her head. "No, you're right. I was getting back today, but I- I shared a coffee with Chloe and we lost track of time."

Lucifer lifts his gaze when he hears the Detective's name.

"I can't say the same, Doctor. One more second and I could have sworn I was back in Hell! However, if this was about the Detective… I can hardly hold your lateness against you, I guess." He smiles, asking then, "Urgent matters, weren't they?"

For the second time in five minutes, Linda puts her purse on the desk. She turns to him, studying his expression carefully. She eventually pinches her lips, squinting a second later. 

"You know, I have a common rule for girl and professional talks."

"Have you, now?" says Lucifer.

"No comment," she reveals, smiling at him. 

Lucifer frowns, surprised that she doesn't want to answer him. The Detective had often been the main subject of their sessions, if not all the time. Thus, what she and Chloe have talked about shouldn't be a secret. Linda's smile grows larger by the second. 

"Worried that she might have talked about you, aren't you?"

"I…."

"Did you try to talk directly at her about it?"

Lucifer shakes his head. He walks away from her, trying to keep his composure, to keep his feelings at bay. It seems an impossible task most of the time, but he manages to control now and then, thanks to Michael's words. 

**_"Don't get too comfortable, Lucifer."_ **

He clears his throat. "We don't really have time for that lately - as you might know, there's a killer on the run. That's why I'm here, I have a short window of time to resurrect my therapy before the Detective requires my help at the precinct." 

Linda frowns as well, following Lucifer and stopping near the coffee table. 

"To 'resurrect' your therapy, you say?" she repeats as he takes his place on the couch. 

He nods. 

"You were right, Doctor. Forgiveness, closure, draining all of these terrible thoughts about myself - it doesn't happen overnight. Everyone knows that I'm not the type to rush things, right? This sounds more like my Father, actually. He has been in a surprising rush to get my arse off my throne - just because I 'might' have died on the spot… Even my fall from Heaven hadn't been _ that  _ rushed."

"Die? On the spot?" Linda repeats, sounding concerned. "You left that out the last time we saw each other."

"Well, I didn't see the point. As you can see, I am as good as new!"

Linda sits, claiming the start of professionalism. He missed this, as much as their talks - normal and inconsequential. There aren't many people to talk with in Hell, aside from yourself and that has never been a good sign. Unilateral talks lack spontaneity or unexpected turns for obvious reasons. Moreover, Lucifer isn't used to sharing his thoughts with his generals. 

Hell isn't made for this.

Linda crosses her legs, still looking at him. 

"But you  _ do _ see the point now, as useless as it might be before. Which brings me back to my previous question - why didn't you talk about this at my place? You've been back two weeks and this is the first time I'm really hearing about your physical and psychological state."

She lifts her hands from her leg, then puts them back on her knee. "You haven't even asked for an appointment."

"No need for that, Doctor," says Lucifer. "I knew you'd be free as a bird at this hour. We have twenty minutes left before your next patient, which leaves us plenty of time to get back to our former doctor-patient relationship."

She gives him an odd look. "That sounds… rather creepy."

He puts aside her comment with a smile, " As about me being here now and not before… well, let's just say that I prefer our professional talks to others."

"Is that why you haven't tried 'lover' talks yet?" she asks him. 

He stays quiet. Lover… It's been a while since he had some, first because none of his former lovers has been interesting enough to 'talk'. They never really cared about him either, just cared about a one-night stand with the Devil. 

One-night stand.

There is no point to talking about this, is it?

As for the rest… well, he feels different with Chloe. Things go differently for him, not that he understands why so far. He didn't change his lifestyle for Eve. Maybe because she jumped into it headfirst. Anyway… 

"May I ask about whom we're talking here? If you meant Eve, I ha ven't seen her si—" he explains himself.

Linda shakes her head. "I'm talking about Chloe, Lucifer."

He sits up, rubbing his hands on his pants. 

"Oh, right. Right… Forgive my misunderstanding, Doctor. I thought we were talking about lovers, not about the Detective."

"So you don't see Chloe as your lover?"

"Well, I…." He breathes in. "The word 'lover' implies something more 'carnal' than what we've done lately. We're not lovers yet… not strictly speaking."

"What have you done so far?"

After he has leaned more comfortably against the back of the couch, Lucifer smiles at her. Its fabric and stiff conception doesn't help to get comfortable, however. Lucifer's sudden tension doesn't help either. 

"You know what, Doctor."

She leans forward, persistent as ever, as he has feared she would be. As he has hoped her to be, in a way. It's him who has come to her, hasn't he? He did it to feel the inconsistency between Hell and Earth. 

"I'd like to hear it from your mouth, actually."

"Eager for juicy details, are we?" he replies, tension turning his smile into a jolly mockery. 

Linda waits quietly for his answer. She wouldn't give up now, would she? 

Sighing, Lucifer looks away. "All right. Before I left, we… we expressed our feelings for each other. And since I've been back, we—  _ I _ kissed her. Just once, that was yesterday. Well, it's the second time, if we take into account that night on my balcony."

Linda frowns, it lasts a second, before she comes back to a neutral, attentive expression.

"And… that's it? Why didn't you—" she looks for appropriate words. "—take the plunge? From what you've told us, Amenadiel and I, your return isn't meant to last, so… I mean, after all you've both been through, it'd be totally understandable that you'd want to take your relationship to the next level." 

"As I told you, the Devil is not the type to rush things. Although you experienced it many times, didn't you?"

She coughs with embarrassment. 

"I did. But you don't have that much 'time', do you? Also, you've been separated from each other for a very long time. I bet it's not the same in Hell than our time here…. Still, it's been six earthly months for Chloe." She shrugs. "How long has it been for you, Lucifer?"

He clenches his right fist on his tight. "Long enough, Doctor."

Sensing the subject as a sensitive one, she doesn't dig it further. She gives him a reassuring smile that relaxes the knuckles of his hand. 

"Did you…" She hesitates. "Did you try to fill your carnal needs down there? You know, to 'divert' yourself?" This said, she lifts her hand, reassuring him about how fine it is even if it sounds bad. "Which is totally fine, Lucifer. Everyone can understand, as Chloe - I'm sure. As I said, it's been a while for both of you. You weren't even supposed t-to come back."

Her voice twitches on the last words. Lucifer stares at her, wondering if she has caught some infant disease from her child. Given how many baby's bottles she keeps in her purse these days, it might explain her odd intonation. 

Besides her strange behavior, he thinks of what she has just said. 

Diversions…. 

His last time in Hell has been long, 'long enough', for mixing up years, decades and longer periods of time together; so much so that he's still struggling to define the middle of his torment from the end. His tangled memories might be due to these side effects after his long, undoubtedly long, separation with the Detective. He has told her it was nothing serious, nor dangerous for her - still, he begins to have serious doubts about this. 

Hard to sell something he doesn’t believe in. 

The more he thinks, the more his past emptiness comes to him as an answer. The thought must be wrong, he's not like this. Hell isn't Earth, but these diversions are the same from one plan to the other. It is 'wild', 'rough' - one might think for good reasons - but once again, this is a matter of details. 

He smiles at his therapist, amused by her allusions which are surprisingly irrelevant. 

"To divert myself… I guess it sounds like me, indeed. At least, it did," he answers, still smiling.

She sits up, intrigued. "So, you didn't…."

Instead of clear kinky words, Linda shrugs a bit. He guesses her movement as purposely suggestive, so much manner and awkwardness for a natural 'diverting' act. Lucifer laughs, shakes his head. 

"I did _ not _ , indeed."

"Okay."

She nods. Again, puzzled and quiet. Again, awkward and polite. The silence doesn't last. 

"Okay," Linda repeats, her brow deeply furrowed. "Why didn't you… ?"

Her hands move on her knee, her fingers stretched in and out for this implicit, fingering question. Having a great time to watch her try to stay professional, Lucifer arches an eyebrow and stays quiet. What would it be next? Charades, perhaps? His smile widens, his laughing deepens. 

Aware that he won't help her, Linda puts her hands back on her knees, sighing her frustration. "Okay. Lucifer - you know exactly what I mean!"

"I'd like to hear it from your mouth, Doctor," he replies.

Shaking her head, she sighs once more. 

"This isn't a game, Lucifer."

"Many would disagree, I would. Besides… weren't we talking about how I divert myself these days?" he insists with a broad grin.

"I know what you're doing."

"Waiting for a diverting denomination from you, perhaps?"

"You're trying to divert my attention."

He's quiet again, his smile fading a bit. "It seems like your favorite subject today."

"My subject for the day is your relationship with Chloe, Lucifer - why are you trying to avoid it? Do you have something to feel ashamed of? For what happened in Hell, maybe? I'm telling you, she will unde—"

He laughs at that, his hands joined with tension which slowly rises to his elbows. It can be heard in his voice already, but it doesn't control his thoughts yet. About thoughts, there's only one in his mind - there is  _ nothing _ to be ashamed of. 

Lucifer shuts her down. "Being ashamed implies bad actions. Badly or not, I can assure you I didn't act."

"Why is that?"

"I couldn't."

"Couldn't? Or… didn't want to, Lucifer?" hints her therapist. 

He opens his mouth, convinced to have the answer as he is convinced that this is air filling his lungs. Doubts nevertheless replace confidence, then comes puzzlement. He… he doesn't…. 

Lucifer blinks several times, open mouth, tense hands from his sudden confusion. 

"I-I…." His gaze meets Linda's. "I don't know."

Feeling the urge to move, Lucifer removes his hands from his pants and pushes against the uncomfortable couch beneath him. He shrugs, moving but not feeling relieved. 

"I… Maybe… maybe both?" he finally says, unsure. 

He can hear his doubts reverberating in his usually harmonious voice. 

He knows what he wants, usually. He only cares about this, his wants. Consent… This is God's business. Consent is meaningless in carnal desire, it is a matter of desires - reciprocal ones, perfectly balanced between each other, filled to your heart's content. The Devil knows how desire works.

Now, however…. 

This is different, now. It is the  _ same.  _

Wants and consent. 

It's all the same. 

He experienced it just yesterday before leaving Chloe. He has had second thoughts about what he could want, what she would allow him to show. What she wanted, what would have her consent… It's an obsession. Lucifer had always cared about her wants, what she might like or not, although never like this. 

He nearly lost himself sometimes.

He feels  _ lost.  _

"We should stop for now, Doctor. You next patient should be here in a second…." he says, about to sit up. 

He needs some air, anything else than this couch, his therapist's gaze on him, than this dissonance playing him at his own game. He wanted to feel, put a distance between him and Hell, between him and this dissonance - he hadn't figured, back then, that it was a matter of physical details. It is in his mind, his feelings. 

Lucifer is dissonant. 

"I can stall it for a bit longer, don't worry." She looks at him, crossing his barriers. "Why do you react like this?"

"You really like the 'why' question, don't you?" Lucifer gets annoyed, jaw clenched. "This sounds bloody repetitive."

"Maybe it sounds this way because, deep down, you know the answer?" she inquires with a slight smile. "Why? Why keep your distance while your relationship is evolving in better ways? Why waste your time like this?"

Finally, another question comes. "Don't you find her attractive? Did it change?"

He stares at her like she has two heads instead of one. "Don't be preposterous, Doctor."

"I wouldn't be if you'd help me understand what's going on, Lucifer. Why are you  _ holding back?" _

"I am certainly not," he disagrees. "I kissed her! I couldn't hold back for a bloody second. I can hold back many things - surely, you know I can - but when it comes to her, I can't help myself o-of…."

"Of what?"

_ "Of wanting more!" _

Lucifer's shoulders droop, following his head. He's feeling chaotic things, Chloe isn't even here with him. 

_ Bloody Hell….  _

Is it how it looks like - overwhelming prepubescent romance? 

He's the Devil, for G—

It's unworthy of him, of Chloe. 

"It's perfectly normal to want more, Lucifer," Linda tries to reassure him, even if her words can't move his anxious gaze away from the floor. 

"It's not."

"Why?"

"Because it's different, I feel different… can't say I like the feeling."

He hears her move, trying to find a more comfortable position on her seat. Lucifer rubs his face as he sits up, taking great care not to look Linda in the eye. 

"Would you prefer to feel what you felt for Eve instead? What you felt for any other lovers of your life here?"

Lucifer takes a moment to think about it. What he'd felt for his lovers hadn't been much, perhaps… fondness? They hadn't talked much, it would have been difficult to feel much as well - just the movements of hips and the smell of sweat. He's not sure he's using the right term for what it really was back then. As each of these people has told to the Detective two years ago - it was just about sex. 

Just sex.

But what about Eve?

It had been more between them, more than with his past lovers obviously, but less than he had first hoped. He had felt less than he ever felt near Chloe. Things couldn't have been different when, one like the other, they had stayed stuck in their past. Eve had only wanted to 'please' him, she had wanted her 'ex'. As for Lucifer, he had only cared about his 'Devil-side', how Chloe was seeing him. 

Chloe.

At this point, everything inside him feels more whenever she is lurking around. Always more, in opposition to the gaping hole within him when he took back his place in Hell. 

He rubs his fingers, shakes his head softly. "No."

His gaze meets Linda's once more. She nods, sympathetic.

"Change is a scary thing, Lucifer. It's all the more scary when you're about to take a significant step forward in your relationship with someone. You've told me how much you care for each other, you've accepted Chloe's feelings for you as she has with yours for her. This is a wonderful, significant step forward."

He makes a face. She notices. 

"Wouldn't you say it's a good thing?"

"When did it ever be, Doctor?" he snarls. "In Hell? Between each of Dad's manipulations?" 

He lets out a bitter exclamation. "I tried, I tried to see our situation as a chance, I told Chloe it was a chance for both of us - to be together, while I just feel cursed. We are, she and I. We're cursed, cursed to be together for the worst of remaining Eternity!"

Linda takes a deep breath, looking concerned by his speech. "Okay. I… guess we might see it that way. A  _ very wrong  _ way."

"Please, tell me how not to and I'll go through it! Chloe and I are linked to each other on the pretext that my feelings can  _ literally _ control my body. I've doomed her to love me despite my nature, despite the fact that I must reign upon nightmarish hordes in exchange of fou—"

Lucifer stops, clenching his fists on his thighs, both his breathing and heartbeats getting faster with overwhelmed emotions. His Father can go fuck Himself, His Mother can burst in Hell, both for creating them like this; unable to live free, to experience all its sides. He could have been free not to come back, free to let Chloe live her human life, like before. 

Like he'd never existed. 

He doesn't exist. Who he is only exists near Chloe, there is no equivalent anywhere else. It only exists against her trembling lips, when he feels her skin against his, her smell, her eyes enslaving his other senses. 

"She loves you, Lucifer. She chose to love you," says Linda. 

"Does she?" he asks, desperate to believe her. "How can you be sure, Doctor?"

He shakes his head, squeezing his hands. He could have bruised his skin if he had been mortal.

"The prophecy, Uriel's proven correct patterns, Chloe being a miracle… I— I told her it was a pattern, a possible future but…" He sighs deeply. "But the more I think about all this, the more it seems meticulously planned from the beginning."

Michael didn't seem happy to replace him, but that doesn't mean His Father feels the same, after all. If God blessed the Detective's parents so that she would cross his path one day, so that she would change him like any other never managed to do, so that he would come to love her and have no control of it, so that he would give up his free will....

All this to subdue Lucifer to His will again?

God is a stubborn dick, to say the least. 

"It's a possibility," she concedes. "God not being in charge of what's happening to you here is another. We talked about this before."

"Talk isn't proof," he grunts with a somber expression. 

"And turning a possibility into some truth isn't… lying?" 

_ "I also know it's a lie. The grand deception I've been telling myself of… since I can't remember." _

"Maybe that He has nothing to do with this," she continues without giving him time to answer, neither to think. "Maybe that you really 'chose' this pattern with Chloe? Speaking of patterns, you know that life is unpredictable; you stopped an army of demons on Earth when Kinley's prophecy announced the opposite…."

"And yet here I am, Doctor." Lucifer lifts his arms mockingly, resigned. "Walking on Earth, far away from any demons, from this Evil to release yet!"

Linda tenses on her seat in a second. 

"But you said they weren't a threat anymore, that Charlie was safe a-an…" Linda is worried, ready to jump from her seat and run to her son. 

She squeezes her thigh, skirt and skin could turn as one in her grasp. She's staring at him, her expression torn apart by a feeling he can't stand to look further. Is this how a loving parent is supposed to react? 

Chloe mentioned it once, but he never truly believed her. 

Yet, Beatrice looks happy to him. 

Because Chloe would stand against an army of demons without thinking twice, only to protect her, really? Linda seems ready to act so, right now. 

"Is there a risk?" she asks him.

Of course, there is - he's no longer in charge. Michael's ways aren't his obviously, but their siblings would certainly help him more in the task than they ever did with Lucifer. If his deal with his Father turns nasty in the future. Apart from this, Lucifer knows that his brother isn't on his own down there, there is someone else - his most loyal weapon. She wouldn't let a single demon cross the doors of Hell, maybe their sliced guts if the worst came to worst. 

She is Mazikeen's mother, after all. 

Lucifer decides to keep these details to himself. He answers as close to the truth as he can be, he will not lie to her, to anyone. 

"There's not much to fear with Michael in charge of Hell, but I'll be back quickly enough to ward off further risks. In the meantime, you know I'm here to watch over my nephew. Not just him." He smiles at her. "Also, I doubt that Maze or my brother would let anyone approach the little spawn since the last incident. Trust me, Doctor; Hell is in safe hands, trustful enough ones I'd say. I- Don't take my doubts at face value."

Then Lucifer frowns. Isn't it what he's been doing for a few minutes now?

His words help his therapist to relax, although they don't have the same effect on him. She has seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown, her trembling fingers nearly squeezing her nerves right through her skin.

She pinches her lips, pats her left hand on the right one, taking a deep breath. 

"Okay. L-Let’s stay focused on your problem, then. How about we try to see things from another angle? You're saying that God willingly pushed Chloe into your arms and vice versa?"

"Sounds like a good summary," Lucifer approves. 

"And now, He'd force you to… keep your distance from her? Because that's what you're doing, for two weeks, right? And this, right after He'd manipulated you to come back on Earth? This sounds illogical."

Lucifer stops listening after her first supposition. "I do not keep my distances, I k—"

"—issed her, I got that," she ends for him, frowning.

She shrugs. 

"We both know your sexual experience is inversely related to your self-discipline, Lucifer. It's just a kiss, just one compared with what you could have done together. What she  _ might  _ want to do with you?"

He quietly looks at her, beset with doubts. 

Maybe. 

Maybe that his Father isn't responsible, not more responsible than any other. It might be a 'chance', but what is it then? This… this irresistible impulse or self-control that never stops getting in the way of his wants?

His heart, his soul belongs to Chloe. 

It is beyond a common declaration of love, beyond everything, even his understanding. 

"You're choosing not to urge things, like Chloe," Linda continues, taking his quiet answer as an approval. "You can choose. And the origin of this choice explains why you feel flustered lately." She smiles. "Any ideas of what it might be?"

"Hold on, Doctor," Lucifer stops her by lifting his hand, his expression struck with realization. "You're saying that I can choose, that Chloe can as well…."

"I am."

"As a result, what's happening to us is all about our recent choices about this relationship. About the 'next step', am I right?"

She looks impressed. This isn't the first time he’s thought in front of her, is it? He must have more common sense than her other patients. 

"That's a great summary!" She sounds pleased. "So… What's your conclusion about this?"

Lucifer gets up, walking towards the window, coming back to the coffee table. His face lights up with each new step. He was right to ask for his therapist's help as soon as she has been available. 

She is the most sensical human he ever met. Chloe's the first, of course. 

"My conclusion is…."

She scrustinizes him with both hope and apprehension, slightly leaned forwards, towards him and his walk from one end of the table to the other. She raises her eyebrows. "Is… ?"

"That I'm—"

"That you're afr—?"

"—I'm able to change this!" Lucifer exclaims triumphantly. "I must help Chloe to make the  _ right  _ choice about me, about us."

Linda has pointed out the most important dissonance in their situation. It is a matter of details. Lucifer has no choice; he was born as a soldier, a servant, a slave in His Father's Plans, these possible patterns deeply linked to his immortality and the deep meaning of each of his past decisions - on a physical and psychological level. 

But Chloe….

"Chloe is the only one who can change me, she's the origin of all these feelings. If I can convince her to change what she feels for me, I could free her from my grasp, I could go back to Hell and let her live her life!"

He rubs his chin. 

"Or you could just… speak with her?" suggest Linda who has been quiet for a minute. "About what you feel?"

"Oh, but we will!" 

Lucifer's smile widens as a plan starts to build in his mind. "We're going to have a 'lovers' talk, as you wisely suggested to me. I won't thank you enough for your help, Linda."

He looks at his watch, aware of how late he was. He shouldn't waste any more time if he wants to put his plan into action shortly. However, he needs to make a slight detour first. Chloe might not appreciate, but isn't it what he's looking for?

He takes his leave with a nod, already at her friend's - and therapist- door. "See you later. Say he— well, anything really, to Charlie for me. It's not like he'll answer any time soon."

Lucifer hears Linda sighing shortly after he passed the door of her office. "Not happening overnight at all…."

He doesn't waste more time to ask further explanations, his thoughts busy with the best manner to lead the Detective to the right choice, she must let him go, let him sound  _ right _ until the End of Times. 

He would be alone again. 

He nevertheless prefers a lonely consonance than another dissonance against her lips. 

* * *

**Tbc**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter as soon as I can.  
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Your game, your choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right on time to celebrate an all new 'season/spin off' (it changes all the time, can't tell which is it this time) with Tom Ellis as the Devil, am I not?  
> This show, guys… Never-ending show!  
> Let's drink/read to that!
> 
> (also, there's a slight 'smut' in this chapter - veryyyyy slight, but still - if you don't like this kind of stuff, just skip it) And thanks for your support on the last chapter! =3 
> 
> Music - Tell you about it (War Hall)  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/3q8eJTCB2RlY2jOBvEIA9o?si=3BIEN_H4S9iQgihrXSP4Wg

**YOUR GAME, YOUR CHOICE**

7

* * *

At 11 AM, Chloe comes into the lab with a loud sigh and sullen face. The walls and Ella's microscope could have trembled with just her breath. Ella stops focusing on her work to give her a worried look. "Hey, Decker. What's the sullen face for?"

Chloe puts her files at the edge of the table, which adds sound effects to their uselessness. She shakes her head, sighing again. 

"Fifty," she says, annoyed. "That's the number of people who might have seen something at the crime scene or at the youth center and its surroundings. But none of them seemed to notice anything useful! Can you believe it?"

The fire in her gaze could have burned these files on the spot. Curbing her desire to gather the files and start a fire with them, Chloe sits on the free stool next to Ella, exhaustion weighing on her shoulders all of a sudden. Weight, void... the void is never minimalist and, in her case; well, let's just say it's not gonna be any time soon. 

"Sadly, I can. A lot of time passed before this lady was taken care of," Ella sympathizes as she removes her glasses and throws her gloves into the yellow bin. "It's rare that people cared that long for someone, y'know?"

Ella's right. Many clues have been lost or wasted between the presumed time of death and the police arrival. Still... few clues don't mean no clues at all. This isn't her first case, her first dead body in L.A. streets with bad conditions to investigate right from the beginning. There is always something to use, some detail, some link to something important. 

It wouldn't show up easily, that's all. 

It's here, though. 

Chloe nods. "I get the feeling that one of those kids saw something. Trouble is, I've got nothing, no proof. Can't pressure them to talk to me with nothing, can I?"

She can still see their lawyer laughing at her when she presented the only two bits of evidence she got from the crime scene. Water in streets? A cross? 

**_"Are you looking for a suspect or just a reason to make us waste our time here, Detective?"_ **

She has been surprised to meet such a high qualified defense attorney, knowing how the youth center had a lot of trouble gathering donations lately. Perhaps he was doing this for free, perhaps it was somewhat personal? Selflessness is rare, rare but not nonexistent, thank God. Chloe would have applauded his efforts if he wasn't throwing a wrench in her gears. That and Lucifer's donation - because that might be why the center has been so well defended all of a sudden. 

Not that that changes things for her; she is at a dead end and can't get through this case on her own. 

Charlotte could have helped her to get through the impenetrable wall forged by the center's lawyer, this _ Ryan Bartson.  _ With this thought, Chloe feels her heart clench in her chest. It's only been a year, but it seems much longer. With this thought, she begins to freak out again. She can't stop thinking about Lucifer's departure, past and future - about the possibility of a permanent departure,  _ really _ permanent this time. Anyway, this isn't how she's supposed to think about his return. 

He's back.

Whether he is just once or not, it's one more time than Dan would ever have. 

This is a 'permanent' departure. 

Chloe takes a deep breath, her gaze led upwards. 

But Charlotte is at peace. And maybe Dan will join her, some day; it's up to him. It's all about guilt. 

_ What about me?  _

What will happen to her after she dies? Lucifer never doubted that she would have her place in Heaven - this 'Silver City', as he called it. She often wonders whether the name is close to the reality or not. The Devil's reality is mostly confusing to follow, after all. The Devil, precisely; the one to whom she's now linked, in the most unprecedented of ways, even though it has been told, mythified for centuries. 

Persephone, Queen of Hell. 

Chloe Decker, The Devil's mate. 

Is it going to influence her final destination after death somehow?

She thinks over Lucifer's words. 

**_"Never. I'd die before it happens, Chloe."_ **

The noble sacrifice increases her heartbeats, but... it's not a 'no'. Nothing is less certain, if he swore he'd do anything to avoid it. She's not out of the woods yet. She may not be going up there and never see Charlotte again, or her father.

_ "No wonder your dad is so proud of you." _

Proud.

Hard to be if he sees her from Heaven, from her point of view - looking for the killer without planning, looking for a pretext to accuse one of those kids of murder. Life hasn’t been easy for any of them so far, each one of them has a reason to want to harm this woman. She was 'ease', Life's injustice... or just an outlet for their old pain and anger born from an unhappy childhood. 

Only suppositions, defamation in the worst case; as the lawyer has repeated to her, over and over again. 

_ Wrong  _ supposition? Possibly. There's something - something with this death, the way it looks - that dismisses a teenager's straight involvement in it. 

That leaves her 'circumstantial' involvement.... 

Apart from the murder itself, one of those kids surely has this stolen check from Penelope. If only she could use this to put pressure on them, she'd get what she needs to pursue her investigation. Robbery, murder - the crossing line between the two is so close. And even if it isn't one of them, they could lead her to the real murderer, just because they'd freak out they'd get busted as an exemple. She doesn't need much to frighten them. 

'Not much', She doesn’t even have that. 

"Ella, princess of the Laboratorium Dynasty is here to help, sis'!" Ella comforts her, thumbs up. "But no doubt that super Lucifer Mornings—"

She then looks behind Chloe, towards the closed door, through the window showing the rest of the precinct. Her thumbs up go slightly down. "Where's Lucifer?" 

"Not here," says Chloe, so fast that her anxiety about him can be distinctly heard. 

She more or less managed not to think of him since Linda left her on her doorstep, both of them hurrying to go to their respective work. Fifty arduous and useless talks with suspects; it's a minimum to forget the Devil. At least Chloe still feels able to feign ignorance. 

Lucifer being back in her life didn't change her talent for pretending not to notice the obvious, she's even improving. From one point of view, one would have thought that she's been influenced by him in many ways - first and foremost denial of a long list of flaws, but that would have been lying. It's her, and only her, who had denied the obvious for years. 

What's a minor denial about how much time they'll have together until his next departure when she had fiercely pretended not to notice the Devil's identity? What about the fact that she may end up in Hell after her death, she may no longer have any control over her feelings, over her reactions; all these alarm signals that she has been ignoring for two weeks?

Oh yeah, Chloe's the champion of denial. 

_ "You two should take some time to talk,"  _ Linda suggested to her before going in her car and leaving.

Talk... if only it was that simple. 

_ It is.  _

She finds herself trapped in Ella's tight embrace in a second, her friend rubbing her back. "Oh, girl! It's fine, he's fine. He is  _ fine! _ " she tries to comfort her, her breath tickling her neck. "I'm sure he is, don't worry, Decker."

"I- I don't," Chloe reassures her, puzzled. "Why would I?"

Lucifer's not here. This isn't something bad. 

No big deal. 

"No need to play hardball with me, lady! You've barely left each other for a second since he's back. And that's okay, and so so so cute and… and I'm sure Lucifer has a very good reason for not being here with you, like he usually does. There's no need to freak out, right?"

"Right," repeats Chloe while pushing softly on Ella's arms so that she can breathe a bit easier. "It's okay, he's just…he's just running a bit late, that's all. It's fine."

Saying this, Chloe takes notice of the truth, the excessive but nevertheless truth in Ella's speech. In two weeks of time, Lucifer has never - ever - missed one single appointment with her. Always on time, sometimes earlier, he has been here; at her side. With the consuming need to feel his presence, she has never complained about it herself, never asked for a change either. Both liked the effort, being back to normal; both disliked these long hours on their own, waiting for an all new day to dawn, for another moment together. 

Lucifer even has complied with paperwork lately, quite willingly. Most of the time. 

Shit. 

They've become so addicted to each other so fast. This 'Persephone' thing is far more serious shit than Chloe has thought first. 

_ Your addiction is much older than that, _ she thinks despite her common sense, thinking along with her primal senses instead. 

There's nothing to worry about. Being late, not warning her about being late, not calling his partner and... who is she to him now? Anyway, it's normal. 

_ Denial.  _

**_"There's nothing 'normal' whenever Lucifer is involved."_ **

It can be, though. 

_ Denial staring you in the face, girl. _

"Found something since this morning?" Chloe asks Ella, pushing away her thoughts about Lucifer's abnormal behaviour. 

"I'm still waiting for news from t—"

That's when a 'bip' interrupts Ella, who turns to her laptop next to her microscope. She leaves Chloe and checks her emails, a smile growing on her lips. 

"I  _ was _ waiting for news from the toxicology department," she finishes. 

"About the water we found?" 

"No, it's for the victim. Nothing came up from the water. It's just... water." Ella shrugs without looking at Chloe. "With a bit of sodium chloride." 

Chloe frowns. "Sodium, you say? It's  _ salt water _ , then?"

"Seems so. Anyway, given the death location, the dirtiness of streets, the number of people and cars there; it could-"

"It could be nothing," Chloe says, disappointed.

She can't use this detail either. However, the way the water has been spread around the victim's head stays suspicious, whether it has been salted or not by the killer. Why even draw this trace on the ground? What's the point for him? The victim was already dead or weakened enough not to resist him anymore. Was it some kind of ritual? It may be. Some weird ritual. 

This case has nothing to do with passionate, violent and messy crimes she dealt with before. It's usually a matter of circumstances, desperate people raising their voices until the worst happened. Most of the time, it's about revenge, about people getting scared and losing their mind. It doesn't sound like their killer here. He's precise, careful. 

"Well, there's definitely 'something' here!" Ella tells her, pointing to a sentence with chemical results on her screen.

Chloe sits up and reads the information with interest. "Tetrodotoxin?" 

Ella nods. "Lethal dose. That could explain why her lips and fingertips turned blue. We first thought she died by suffocation, but… we were wrong! There were no signs of strangulation, although we noticed eyes bleeding and petechiae on her body."

"So she got poisoned? Not strangled?" 

"Both, sort of."

Chloe gives her a confused look. "I'm not following you."

"Tetrodotoxin is a strong neurotoxin that will block nerve impulse, like its name says. The brain can no longer pass orders to 'breathe'. Like L.A. afternoon traffic in town?"

Suffocation by poisoning, then. It's a lead, a real lead to use. Chloe nods, thinking about other leads possibly linked to this one. "And this tetrodo-stuff here... how long does it take to affect you?" 

"Depends. Several people showed signs of poisoning fifteen minutes after their meal. Not that it made any difference," Ella adds with a sigh. "There's no efficient antidote to use so far."

"Wait, did you just say 'meal'?" 

"Yeah! Tetrodotoxin is oozed by a fish that is so difficult to cook! Only experienced chefs dare to cook it. Oh, I know there's one in L.A. Maybe we—"

"Another time. What fish?" 

"Oh, there are plenty of fish. Not just fish, actually, but you'll find higher doses of toxins in fugu.  _ Delicious!  _ So I've heard."

"You think she ate some before she died? You said the toxin was fast-acting," Chloe wonders. 

"Sometimes, but it tends to affect people four to six hours after ingestion. And our dear rich lady had nothing in her stomach. Not even puke signs around her mouth or inside her throat - one of the first signs of food poisoning."

"We can rule out accidental death, then," Chloe whispers, rubbing her chin. "Is there another way to get it in your system? Other than food, I mean." 

"Ow, it's soluble in water, so... you can add it to any liquid, inject it as well. Even your skin can absorb it through the pores, but 'not the same effect in this case. It's less effective. I'd bet on a liquid here."

"Why?" 

"No visible signs of injection and skin rash. She drank it. Trust me, Decker!" 

Chloe walks away from her friend, reviewing the possibilities presented to her. Finally. A deadly toxin ingested without her knowledge, was that it? It's more than likely. The most important question remains, though; where? The 'where' that would lead her to the 'by whom' faster and more efficiently than all those files scattered on the table. Had Penelope Sanchez been poisoned at her place before coming, as usual, to the youth center to give her check? Her personal driver didn't make any detours between her place and the center, that's what he told her, he even swore it. But Penelope left alone, without telling her driver, without telling anyone.

Why?

"What would have been the other symptoms?" she asks after reaching the end of the table, slowly turning towards Ella. 

She thinks for a brief moment."Well, let's see…. Nausea and vomiting, we already know those two little naughties. First, your lips and tongue go numb. Then comes dizziness, headaches. After that... oh yeah, almost forgot! Abdominal pain, tremors. Complete paralysis! And the grand finale, of course; cardiac arrhythmia, respiratory failure - both fatal." 

The long list of symptoms makes them both wince. Death is more gentle than that, sometimes, even when it's brutal. Brutal and quick; isn't it better than slow agony? Chloe frequently wonders about this, but there's no good answers at that, nor simple ones. 

"Okay. So... if she had felt dizzy, if she had been disoriented after being poisoned, she had probably wandered into the nearby neighborhood, looking for help maybe? 'Might explain why we found her in the middle of the street," Chloe thinks aloud. 

She shakes her head, feeling all the more sorry for the victim. 

She suffered, alone. Probably for quite a long time. 

"She didn't understand what was happening to her."

"But we're gonna find answers for her, aren't we?" Ella supports, supporting Chloe at the same time, with her touching awkwardness. 

"Yeah, we'll figure this out. I have a lead to get things moving now." 

She has enough leads to apply pressure to plausible suspects now, enough to rule out many other leads in a flash. A more direct accusation, wrapped in solid facts; this will be enough to loosen tongues. Many masks would fall at the mere mention of poisoning - those kids would quickly lose any desire to test her authority and patience. As for the lawyer, he would have no other choice than reconsider his approach. 

Evidence, presumption... the line is thin, just what she needed. 

With Lucifer's  _ convincing  _ support, it would be child's play.

Once again at the center of her thoughts, Lucifer's physical absence feels like a hole in her chest, where her heart is supposed to beat. She checks her watch, worried that she still hasn’t seen him outside the lab. Maybe it's time to call him. It's just a call, after all - nothing too much, nothing related to irrational anxiety after two weeks of strict punctuality. She just needs her partner. 

She would have reacted the same way before. 

Before. 

Right now. 

Afterwards. 

**_"It's, mh... It feels like I'm completely messed up from the inside out."_ **

**_"Things got confused since he's been back."_ **

Chloe distractedly rubs her fingers on the glass of her watch. 

She would have reacted the same way before. 

_ Maybe. On the other hand, you might be influenced by this 'thing' for much longer than you'll ever admit. _

A thing? This isn't a 'thing' - this is simple. Simple like a phone call can be. Chloe thanks Ella and leaves the lab, her files stuck under one arm, her free hand already busy looking for her phone in the pocket of her lilac jacket. 

Just a call. 

Calling him doesn't prove anything, it's just...  _ calling.  _ She can't be that much affected by this 'pattern'. She may have sent Dan packing for nothing yesterday, but - as Linda reassured her - anyone else would have. It was nothing, nothing but the expression of her sincere feelings for Lucifer, nothing caused by some damn prophecy, pattern, possible future o-or— 

_ Denial, denial, denial. You're burying your head in the sand, Clo. _

She stops halfway to her desk, sighing loudly. 

It's getting ridiculous. 

She knows how she feels. What she felt that night, what she's been feeling since he came back. She knows how she feels at the mere thought of his next departure, of this brief respite that God gave them.

_ Like it's enough…. _

She looks without blinking at the screen of her phone, not moving an inch, chewing on her lower lip, exhaling her doubts. It was enough; before all this. Still, Chloe is about to reach her limits. She's getting tired of living in fear, with her excessive emotivity, Lucifer's half-answers, the tacit denial between them and the rest of the world. 

They wasted so much time not talking about it.

Denying the facts. 

She knows what she needs to do, what they both need. She knew, long before Linda's clues. 

She's had two long weeks to find out. 

It was so simple. 

And yet, instead of starting a real conversation with Lucifer, Chloe prefers to start one with her friend instead. What better than cowardice to succeed in denial?

"Hey, Linda," she says as soon as her friend picks up the phone. "Have you by any chance seen Lucifer this mor—"

**"I'm not responsible for whatever he’s said or done, okay?!"** Linda exclaims straight away. 

Chloe feels one of her files sliding under her arm and walks into the kitchen, putting it on the counter. She frowns, surprised by her reaction. 

"O-okay?" she finally answers. "Not what I'm asking but… good to know. I guess?"

**"It's not?"** Linda sounds surprised too, almost… relieved? 

Chloe feels unpleasant apprehension rising from her guts. "So, you saw him."

**"I-"** Linda hesitates, then confirms that Lucifer has indeed come to her office.  **"I did. But you know I can't tell you what our session was all about,"** she adds quickly. 

"Again, not what I'm asking. And if we think about it… you started first."

**"Yeah, well… I- I though-"**

"You thought 'what'?" insists Chloe, ever more puzzled. 

A long sigh ensues.  **"You'll find out soon enough. Knowing him."**

Chloe's face wouldn't have been able to express any deeper puzzlement right now. Turning around, she exclaims, "What the hell are y—?"

Her gaze naturally finds its way to her desk, the rest of her sentence stopped in tracks by puzzlement and exasperation. 

"Never mind," she sighs, not taking her eyes off Lucifer. "I got the picture."

She hangs up, leaving files and leads behind and gets to her partner with a few steps. She gazes without a word at the two women accompanying him; one is sitting on Chloe's chair, on her knees and her rump enhanced by a blue mini-skirt. Lucifer and the other woman are huddled together, her hand under his jacket - she would have touched him further down if Lucifer didn't dismiss her advances with a gallant but firm grip around her wrist. He lets her stay close to him, though - not even ill-at-ease.

Then, his gaze meets Chloe's.

She lets pass the wave of emotions roaring within her; the Devil's indivisible effects on her and vice versa; she can tell by how his posture just changed. His entire body turns towards her rather than towards the woman at his side, she looks even more like leech. He smiles at her and Chloe does her best not to smile back at him. 

Difficult, although not impossible. 

The chuckles of those women near Lucifer help her a lot.

"Detective! Right on time!" he welcomes her, enthusiastic. 

Chloe doubts she's managed to control her emotions in Lucifer's presence, but it looks like she worried about nothing. The trick is to watch Lucifer being completely indifferent to what he's provoking in her. It shouldn't be that perceptible on her face, in her eyes or her body reactions, then. 

That's a good thing, right?

Still, she'd appreciate it if he'd notice. 

Chloe crosses her arms on her chest. "What for?" 

"Is it her?" one of the young women asks - the one slumped on her seat - after looking at Chloe for a long time. 

Opening his mouth to answer, Lucifer is interrupted by the other bimbo who no longer seems near death if she doesn't rub her boobs against his Armani. "She's pretty enough." 

Chloe squints, offering a tense smile to the female tandem. "Thanks. Lucifer?" 

The Devil winces slightly when he hears his partner's cold intonation. He holds her gaze, Chloe noticing the tension he's trying to hide under his usual devil-may-care-attitude. She thinks back to Linda's reaction on the phone; they had a session, talked to each other. What did they talk about, for then coming here with bimbos? 

What's on his mind?

Lucifer grins, puts his arm around the leech's waist - if Chloe would have had salt she'd spray some on her face, really. 

He finally does the introductions. "Detective, allow me to introduce you to the Brittanys. Brittanys, this is the Detective - your new partner."

_ Partner?  _

Brittany 1 sits up. "Hi, Detective. Wanna keep the title for the game, by the way?" 

Chloe stares at her, puzzled. "Game?" she repeats, her crossed arms leaving her chest. "I—"

Brittany 1 shrugs, her heels clicking on the floor as she sits more comfortably. She twists a lock of brown hair around her index finger, always looking at the detective with interest. Chloe never thought she would blush from another woman's stare, moreover a Brittany. 

She coughs, looking away, feeling as much uncomfortable with the second still busy touching her partner. Her anger moves up a rung, yet still unnoticed by Lucifer. 

"Either is fine for me. It's more exciting if you keep it. Right, Lucifer?" 

Brittany 2 repeats her title with an intonation that makes Chloe feel even more uncomfortable.  _ "Detective….  _ Oh it sounds so cool!"

She briefly moves away from Lucifer to clap her hands. And for a second, Chloe sees Eve before her, just long enough to blink. Lucifer is no longer with Eve, he's with her.

Her. 

Chloe freezes. 

Here's this possessiveness again. But she's the one who wants to say it loud and clear this time, not Lucifer. Like she did with Dan yesterday. 

"When do we start?" asks one of the Brittanys.

Lucifer's grin widens. "Sounds sinfully exciting! Won't you agree, 'Detective'? 

Lucifer's intonation acts differently on Chloe who, as embarrassed as she already is, does her best not to show how these four syllables are arousing her. 'Arousing' isn't close enough to express what she's feeling. She focuses on other feelings; perplexity, annoyance, embarrassment in front of her colleagues, in front of her superior and those civilians she's about to question. In front of Dan. 

**_"He found his rightful queen, didn't he?"_ **

Lips pinched, expression tensed; she approaches Lucifer who's ignoring Brittany 2. Indifferent to good manners, what he should do or not now that he's hers - is he, though? Just for a sentence at Lux, for a kiss, a verified prophecy? -, now that she's his. Lucifer arches an eyebrow when he feels her closer to him. 

Like he's expecting something from her. Something specific. 

If the goal was to piss her off, to humiliate her in public; it's a complete success. 

"Interrogation room," says Chloe, jaws clenched. "Now." 

A shadow crosses his gaze, disappointment he's hiding with smiles and relaxed attitude again. "Public performance it is, then?" he inquires. "Am I about to play the uncooperative suspect and you, ladies, the experienced detectives running out of time? Because I won't play it another way!" 

Going red with both embarrassment and anger, Chloe gives him a death stare. "Lucifer." 

He sighs, rolls his eyes. "Fine. We can start with the simplest," he complies. 

"What about us?" complains Brittany 2 as he follows Chloe. 

Chloe doesn't turn around, Lucifer's answer behind her pisses her off quite enough not to lay it on thick by gazing at these anorexic nymphomaniacs. "We'll be back soon, darling. Don't worry!"

_ Do worry _ . Lucifer is hers. 

Chloe slams the door of the interrogation room, turns to Lucifer and exclaims; "What's your game?"

"Actually, we haven't started the game yet. This only makes sense with the Brittanys, or anyone else. As long as we have two more partners...." he says with a shrug. He frowns. "You don't like them?" 

Chloe shakes her head, lost. "Like them?"

"Given their long experience in games, they were my first choice, but I won't mind if you choose other players - Men, perhaps? Or a woman and a man? I have varied appetites, as you know, it's not a problem. Let's see who's available for a couple of hours tonight...."

With these words, he looks for his phone, Chloe being speechless. A second later, she snatches the phone out of his hands, forcing him to look at her - something he hasn't done since they got in there. He sighs, not looking long. He then gives her a quick glance, looking amused.

She is  _ not  _ amused!

"Right, I get it. Your game, your choice…. Anyway, you'd better dismiss Alice from the list; she laughs like a demented witch on cracks when she comes."

_ "Lucifer!"  _

He finally stops jabbering. 

Taking a deep breath to calm down, Chloe asks him; "Why did you bring those girls here? It's a simple question." 

"But for the game, of course." 

_ "What _ game?" 

"Well, the kind of game going hand in hand with the Devil's stamina, Chloe. Now that you're the main source of it, I couldn't plan the next session without you! Besides, Linda thinks it's time for us to... what was the exact term?" He looks for words, snapping his fingers when he does find them. "Right! That we 'take the plunge'." 

Chloe stares at him, mentally repeating each of his words to give them sense. When she finally does, she blinks several times, imagining things she would gladly avoid.

She starts to blush with barely a few visions and shakes her head. "Lucifer... are you…." She gulps, embarrassed. "Talking about a-a…." 

Lucifer arches an eyebrow. "A foursome?" he finishes for her, to which she replies with a nod, turned speechless after her first two attempts. "Of course, isn't it obvious enough?" 

Not for her, obviously. 

Shaking her head once more, she lets out a nervous laugh - as annoyed as embarrassed by his sexual ambitions with her. Does she even have a say in the matter? Just the thought of Lucifer in bed with those bimbos, with her and—

Her laugh turns into throat clearing. 

"I-I…" she mumbles. No. No."

He stares back at her. Surprised, only surprised. Neither embarrassed - of course, he's not - nor hurt by her refusal, nor discouraged by her own embarrassment, her prudery. Many men find this unattractive; a few of her lovers had broken up with her because she didn't know how to 'have fun'. 

Letting go, trying new stuff.

But this is Lucifer. 

They still haven't—

They still haven't tried more classic stuff in a relationship. 

Of course they haven't. For good reasons. 

She keeps wondering which ones have led him to propose to her such a thing. He and Linda have talked about their relationship, really? About 'taking the plunge'? Linda told him to take the plunge when she advised her to just 'have a little talk'? 

_ Linda has nothing to do with this.  _

No, she would never encourage Lucifer to push Chloe this way. Lucifer's reasons, not Linda's. 

"'No'?" he repeats. 

"No," she says a third time, her voice sounds firm. "No fou— No." 

Lucifer keeps staring at her, his expression half-puzzled, half-disappointed by her clear-cut 'no'. Chloe can feel there's more in this, hidden beneath his seeming composure. She still can't tell what exactly. Then Lucifer smiles; his expression changed when he realizes something she doesn't. 

"Oh, I see;" he says, his voice has changed too; deep, confident. He walks towards her. "A one-on-one game then? Is that what you've got on your mind?"

Chloe walks backwards. She shouldn't. They are talking, so why is she once again unable to align two words in a clear sentence? 

"I—" 

"Well, I'm in if you are," he whispers, still moving forward. 

Chloe's still moving backwards.

"Lucifer, I'm not—" 

"Not interested?" He ends for her, pleased. Now, now,  _ Detective.…  _ Lying to the Devil, really?"

Here's that intonation again. 

Chloe quivers, moving backwards until her lower back meets the edges of the table. She leans backwards, gulps, dismissing quivers, thoughts with half-controlled inhalation. That's not to mention the Devil's determination to barely let an inch of breathable space between them.

She's shaking again as soon as he leans forward, his hands placed on the table near hers, so close to hers. He's a tall; unmissable, breathtaking sight before her…. His dark gaze fixed on hers, his face so close to hers. 

"You're curious about this, aren't you?"

Chloe looks at his lips, she looks at him. 

"About what?" she whispers, not moving away from him. 

He's the first to avert his gaze and, for a moment, Chloe thinks he's done 'playing' with her. 

He's not. 

She can feel his lips graze her cheek, her earlobe. His hands are no longer on the table, but on her hips. "This." 

Chloe's fingers twitch on the edge of the table. She breathes in his scent.

Blanton's Single Barrel and Merveilles.

She listens to his breath running on her skin, her raging heartbeats in her chest. She breathes out, closes her eyes. She listens to his voice, feels it run down her cheek, following the line of her neck. "This is what you desire, Chloe." 

"You can't know it for sure," she replies, breathing in. 

Not with her. With anyone else but her. Anyone. 

"True." admits Lucifer, staying right where he is. 

He presses his body harder against her. Chloe forgets how to breathe for a second. His breath close to her ear, he soughs; "But I can feel it." 

His hands slowly move up to her breasts, applying slight pressure. He stops short after, doing it again when she's not ready. Chloe gets lost in the feeling of the fabric of his shirt against her skin, of Lucifer's proximity. There's only fabric between them. It's warm. Soft. 

This feels nice. Really nice. 

"I feel your desire for me. I can feel how curious you are," he continues, his fingers brushing her shirt buttons one by one, not unbuttoning one, going down, to the last button above her jeans. 

His hand stops there. Chloe can't tell if she should feel relieved or not. "You're curious to know how far I could touch you if I'd go any further. You want to know what it feels like to touch me, to feel my skin against yours, to feel both our bodies move against this table, to hear it move with us. It might break under us, hm?"

She closes her eyes, bits her lower lip, holds back a moan. She could move, step aside, stop this right there; right now. She just has to move, say something.

Lucifer's hand moves lower, light pressure between her thighs. Her fingernails ache against the table. The combined pressure of his fingers, her jeans, the lingerie underneath; it's interesting, fascinating even. Chloe doesn't say anything. The pressure disappears as quickly as it appeared. 

Disappointing. 

She doesn't say anything about that too. Just an exhalation; long, trembling at its end, with the last pressure against her sex; him  _ almost _ touching her. He pulls her shirt out of her pants, slowly. She lets him, not saying a word, not forbidding. 

She can't help but press her body against his, can't help but imagine. 

"We might be noisy, quiet... we could be caught in the act, or left all alone here until there'd be nothing left of this table, until this glass would shatter with our thundering lovemaking. Who knows?" 

"Mmh…."

He has almost finished pulling the shirt out of her jeans when he pauses. Chloe opens her eyes. He's watching her, still waiting for this 'something' from her, of which she still can't tell its nature. Lucifer breathes in, out; heady breeze on her temple, in her hair. "Everyone could hear us; Daniel, Ella, the lieutenant…." 

They could, yes. 

Lucifer adds in a hurried tone; "The Brittanys? They're not far away, after all. They would know that you're mine - like everyone else here. That I'm yours, on this table, on the floor, against the glass...."

She holds her breath, waits and sees what's about to happen; the captivating explosion of all these possibilities. 

"Anywhere, Chloe." 

His lips come back to hers, open to her growing desire, to her speeding breathing when his gestures are slow, with mastery of desire she's curious about. Desire is the Devil's ground, but she is his Queen now. It's up to her to know, to control, to share his desires - whatever they might be. The two of them, alone or with others... from simple to complicated stuff, she stays his Queen, doesn't she? 

She could know. Know  _ everything.  _

Anywhere, in plain view, here or anywhere else.

He wants her, not those women. She has that power. 

Chloe blinks, confused. She moistens her lips, these lips that Lucifer just left swiftly. She no longer feels his body against her, his hands on her are less devoted to fill her curiosity, frozen on her hips; hesitant touch on the fabric of her skin. Just a second ago, Lucifer was kissing her back, she heard him moan in her mouth. 

She has  _ felt _ his desire for her. 

"Lucifer?" 

"You just kissed me," he says, shaking his head. 

She stares at him. "Shouldn't I?" 

"No." 

Unexpected response. Weird. He looks upset, very upset. 

"I'm-I'm sorry?" she replies. 

She takes her hands off his back, gives him the opportunity to step back. He keeps staring at her, still upset. Given the choice between a talkative and speechless Lucifer like he is at the moment, Chloe would choose the first option. 

"What's wrong?" she asks him. 

"Why kiss me?" 

"I—"

Well, it's obvious why, right? 

He then runs his hand through his hair, walking to the two-way mirror and then to the closed door. The empty space between them makes her shiver. She tucks her shirt back into her pants as he continues his ramblings through the interrogation room, a feeling of shame growing in the back of her throat. What was wrong with him? 

"You're not supposed to react this way..." he mumbles to himself as he walks back to her. 

"What did you expect?" she retorts, hurt. 

He acts like she's the one to blame. He's the one who whispered interesting words in her earlobe, he's the one who touched her; he started all this... and yet, he didn't expect her to accept such advances? 

"You were supposed to reject me." 

"Sorry, what?" 

"In my defense, my plan looked much more promising in my mind." 

"Wh—"

Pulling on the sides of her jacket, she lifts her arms. "You were planning that I'd reject you?" She summarizes, flabbergasted. "Why?" 

Suddenly less talkative, Lucifer only answers her with a shrug, glancing at her reaction. 

Son of….

He's still trying, isn't he?

"Lucifer…" she warns him, pointing at him. "Stop trying to piss me off and tell me what's going on." 

Giving her a faint scowl, he puts his hands in his pants pockets. "Any explanation would go against the plan, Chloe." 

"On your death, and I swear that I'm doing my best not to strangle you right now - spit it out!'

She crosses her arms on her chest. It's hard not to strangle him, it really is. All this, these women, how he tried to piss her off; Chloe's already having serious trouble controling her emotions. A bad idea to upset the Devil's mate, perhaps more than the Devil himself. Lucifer makes a face, he knows she's serious. She shot him once, right? 

He lets out a deep sigh, rubs his chin. "All this is for your sake, Chloe. I'm trying to keep you safe."

It doesn't sound good, but she stops herself from interrupting him, curious to find out what this is all about.

"I-I thought that, if we're now emotionally linked to each other, the opposite was also possible. Why not, hm? Such a literal love between the Devil and a human is already an unprecedented situation. I wanted to make you cut our link, given that I'm unable to do it myself and that you're the one who started all this… It made sense at the time." Shaking his head, Lucifer starts to complain about his failure. "Maybe I should have invited the Brittanys to join us? I'm usually more in the details, but I was running out of time." 

"Yeah, you left plenty of them on the sidelines."

He looks at her, curious. "Did I? Which ones?" 

"I'm not a toy, Lucifer." 

Chloe's voice shakes with his name, clear utterance of betrayal, his betrayal. He doesn't even realize that, does he? Either that or he doesn't care about the consequences for her. That was the plan, wasn't it? He's acting according to  _ his _ plan. 

His plan. 

Chloe clears her throat, looks everywhere else but him to hold back her tears, those uncontrollable emotions piercing through her heart. She isn't supposed to cry, to react to a plan, something planned. Emotions have no rights into this 'planned' situation, planned by Lucifer, who had swore to her - back to their first real date - that he would never try to manipulate her, to use her feelings for some evil plan. 

She had felt stupid, ignorant. 

A human perception, for sure. 

Well, the Devil's perception sucks in comparison. 

"You can't use my feelings for you like this. You have no right to manipulate me." 

Grimacing with her accusation, with the implicit link between him and his Father, Lucifer roars; "I did no such thing! I'm trying to spare you any further manipulations from others!"

Chloe blinks, her eyes burning with tears, with emotions that could be manipulated by others. She shakes her head, breathes in, lets out a shaky breath before looking back at Lucifer; tense like a bow near the door. 

"My bad, then... because I feel damn manipulated from here." She shrugs, arms still crossed on her chest bruised from the inside. "Must be a matter of perception, right?" she whispers. 

He doesn't answer. 

Not pretending to expect any from him, Chloe walks towards the exit, passing him to open the door. She turns her head slightly; Lucifer's looking at an invisible point before him, tense, frozen on the spot by his failure, his success perhaps. 

"You better get back to Lux with these women. Let's not ruin your precious plan, hm?"

And she's gone. 

**Tbc**

* * *


	8. Speaking of apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took longer than I thought - It's like I write a 14k words chapter (7k in french, 7k in english) XD  
> My personal punishment/reward for long chapters, I guess ^^  
> Anyway, here it is!  
> Music - For the last time (Dean Lewis)  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/0lfximMUQVygKNbWlFlsP5?si=bWc6HGt4RPW7EJt1PODMfw

**SPEAKING OF APOLOGIES**

8

* * *

"That's why you're so mad at him, really?"

Chloe's hand freezes in the air, knife raised above the half chopped bell peppers. "He used my feelings, Maze!" she clarifies.

Mazikeen sneers shamelessly at her roommate's hurt feelings. If the demon had been there in the flesh and not on the other side of the world - she must be anywhere else other than the USA, given the language hubbub echoing around her in this seedy bar - Chloe would have thrown her knife at her without feeling guilty for a second.

She would have caught it.

A demon's trick, Maze's.

Chloe looks daggers at the tablet computer against the wall instead. She lowers the knife, honed by her misunderstood rage, on these innocent vegetables. A piece, or two, falls at her feet, as did a few others before. Two more and Trixie would be eating off the floor.

She really needs to calm down.

Why did she even call Maze to 'calm down'?

"Welcome to the club, Decker," she sneers again as she raises her glass and drinks it down in one go without flinching.

Chloe squints.

"Didn't you tell me that feelings weren't your thing?"

"It doesn't stop Lucifer from using them however he wants. If you think you're special because he manipulated you... that's the story of our partnership," she says by pouring herself another glass.

"You're right. It's nothing new," Chloe admits on second thoughts.

She hadn't been really able to think since she had left Lucifer - damn manipulative bastard! Nothing had been able to calm her down, to appease her anger since then. Taking care of Trixie had given her some respite, but - as the vegetables had been the first to notice - it had only been a second best diversion. She still can't get over it and, to be honest, hasn't been able to think beyond since.

"It's so him t-to force things to be the way he wants them to, I know that. It's just…."

Mazikeen interrupts her, arching her eyebrow; avoiding, without turning around, a chair thrown in her direction. Chloe does flinch, however she's out of reach.

"Wait. You're still talking about feelings, aren't you?"

"Maze… did I just see a chair fly above your head or am I just way off mine?" Chloe answers her with another question, taking the tablet computer with both hands.

" **CYKA!** " someone cries off-screen.

Maze, leaning against the bar counter flooded in spilt alcohol, grabs an undamaged bottle behind it and thus avoids the punch that was meant for her. Chloe had often wondered in the past if demons had a sixth sense, or other senses - stronger than human's - or even eyes in the back of their heads. Or maybe it was just so 'Maze' to avoid punches as easily as she was punching others around.

She hits her opponent's nose with the back of her skull, loss of blood and curses in another language resounding in Chloe's kitchen. Barely shaken, the demon pours herself an umpteenth drink, the man staggering off-screen without further ado.

Hand placed above her fast-beating heart, Chloe has been holding her breath all along. She only breathes out when the man disappears from her sight. "Jeez… Maze! Where the hell are you?!"

"Russia, why do you ask?"

"Russia?! What on earth are you doing in Russia?"

Suddenly less disposed to answer her, Mazikeen turns her empty glass in her hands. She rubs the tip of her nose - a habit she's got whenever she feels uncomfortable; especially when it's about those 'feelings' to which she understands nothing at all. It's more like she doesn't understand others feelings.

She shrugs. "Just visiting some old friends."

"Yeah? And who is that - the man who's gushing blood behind you or the one lying at your feet?" Chloe brings the screen closer, concerned. "Is he still breathing?!"

Maze tilts her head, unmoving first and then kicking the poor guy at the level of his calf. They both hear a faint whine.

"See?" the demon exclaims as she straightens up. "No worries."

"I'm worried about you, Maze."

"Again with the feelings, Decker?" she sighs and rolls her eyes. "I'm a demon."

"You're my friend," replies Chloe. "I miss you, Trixie misses you… a lot. Why don't you… why don't you come back home, visit your 'present' friends, mh?"

Mazikeen's snigger comes back. "Hear you cry about feelings sucks plenty enough from Russia, thank you."

"Well, I  _ thank  _ you for your concern!" Chloe retorts, upset.

"Oh just stop it, Decker! We both know why you're so mad here."

Chloe stares at her, puzzled. "Because Lucifer jerked me around? That's what I keep telling you for the last hour, Maze!"

"Because you missed a golden opportunity to get laid."

Chloe is speechless, then lets out a faint exclamation, her cheeks as red as the ruined bell peppers on her chopping board. That—

That's not the point!

"It isn't always about sex with Lucifer," she mutters.

"Everything is always about  _ sex _ with Lucifer. And it's the only thing that's not your strong suit," Maze teases her with a smirk. She pauses, thinking. "What's your strong suit, again?"

"Again, it's not the point," Chloe repeats to her, waving her knife in front of the screen. She then adds out of bravado; "And you're wrong, I'm… I'm pretty skilled."

Like everyone. She's not… a sex machine, insatiable succubus re-inventing lust in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Or another kind of…  _ tail _ , in that case. It's never been about skills, but about trust.

About feelings.

Hasn't it? Is it naive from her?

Sex is neither her strong suit, nor her weak spot; it's just sex.

With Lucifer.

The blade of the knife misses her ring finger from an inch. Mazikeen, for her part, sneers even more.

"Admit it. It pisses you off that he faked it, doesn't it? It's not about feelings, it's about your nun's sexual abstinence."

Her smile grows on her mocking face. "I bet he's as frustrated as you are right now, if not more."

"What?"

Mazikeen shrugs, drinks up. The man at her feet, unconscious so far, whines louder; he nevertheless regrets it as soon as one of her feet meets his belly.

"Lucifer can't say, express anything but the truth, Decker. Same when he uses your 'feelings'." She has insisted on the last word, grunting with disgust. "Whatever he told you in this room, you can be certain he was telling the truth. He can't lie, nor wants to."

"But that's exactly what he did!" Chloe exclaims.

The Brittanys, how he had driven her into her emotional -  _ sexual _ \- corner. There's no truth, it was only manipulation! It was… fake.

"He tried to manipulate me."

"And you liked him trying so because it felt _ true! _ "

"I—"

Getting bored with the talk, Maze sighs and asks her point blank, "Was he hard or not?!"

"Who's hard?"

Her jaw dropping, her face turned red, Chloe lifts her gaze from the screen. She notices Trixie's presence on the other side of the living room, the door of her bedroom open behind her too. She's staring curiously at her mother, holding her homework in one hand, a pencil in the other. Closing and opening her mouth twice in five seconds, Chloe looks helplessly at her friend who - with a smirk going against her child's innocence - is about to answer for her. Such a helpful, demonic friend.

Chloe outpaces her, undoubtedly helped by the near hearable definition on Maze's lips. "Maze. She…."

The latter stares at her without blinking, amused. Waiting.

"She's-she...uhm… It's hard for her to find someone to play guessing games with her. Russians don't like guessing games."

She sees from the corner of her eye one of those 'Russians' trying to crawl away from the demon. Mazikeen digs her heel in his back, making him whine like a little girl. Chloe's little girl seems thrilled with the news. She walks towards the kitchen intending to grab her mom's tablet on the counter.

"Cool! I wanna play! Can I, Mom? Please?"

Faster than Trixie, Chloe grabs the tablet before she closes her hands on it. "In a sec, honey. First, Maze needs to… find a quieter place to play. Right, Maze?"

Mazikeen sighs louder. She sits up and takes her phone from the bar counter, which gives Chloe a clearer picture of the chaos she provoked there. Guessing games turned dangerous with demons,  _ really _ dangerous.

How did she ever manage to hang this man by his trousers to the ceiling light and—?

That was diabolical.

That was the Devil's friend.

"Call you back in a sec, little human," says the demon, stepping over several whining bodies on the ground.

"Oh and say hi to Eve for me, okay?" Chloe teases her by way of reprisal, fully aware of why her friend has travelled so far away from home.

She knows she is right when Maze's confident expression begins to fade on the screen. The video calls ends, the screen turned black before Chloe's victorious grin. She handles the tablet computer to Trixie who happily walks back to her bedroom. Chloe, for her part, gets back to her cooking preparations. It's Tacos Tuesday - and Dan won't come this time.

Once again.

Once again, this is another 'Lucifer effect', back in her life and her daughter's, even though he hadn't yet had the chance to see Trixie again throughout these last two weeks. He probably tries to postpone it as long as possible, knowing him. Of course, he would try. Their recent argument wouldn't help to create any further opportunities for her daughter to see Lucifer again anyhow. She wishes Dan could have come, for Trixie. She hadn't been the best parent in the last six months, hasn’t been much more than a pitiful shadow of her former self until recently. She feels bad about 'stealing' time from Dan with their daughter, somehow, given everything he'd done to make things easier for her. Trixie hasn't complained much more than usual about her father's absence tonight, nor has she seemed reluctant to spend an extra evening with her mother.

She could have.

But children have this amazing ability to adapt with worst situations, to forgive.

It remains difficult for Chloe.

To forgive herself.

To forgive, too. It never has been her strong suit.

Her gestures slow above plates, dishes over the fire.

Her strong suit….

The heat raises from her wrist to her open palm, wet from the vegetables she just put in the pan. She closes her eyes, lets out a sigh.

Almost the same heat as his, from his skin under his collar; back then.

No need to think about an answer to Mazikeen's crude question.

She removes her hand before she really starts to  _ burn _ for the Devil, brought back to the present time by two hesitant knocks at the front door. Rubbing her hand to appease the pleasant if slightly painful sensation of flames on her skin, Chloe walks to the door, surprised to see Lucifer once she opens it.

She stares, then glares at him - annoyed to see him on her doorstep, also annoyed to feel happy about it. Her heart beats more vividly within her chest, not caring much about her fair feelings for him. Those that matters to her, not to her teenage libido.

She bits the inside of her cheek, this time annoyed to confirm Mazikeen's theory. A demon seeing right through her feelings - it sounds unreal.

He is the first to speak, aware that she doesn't need much - less than words - to slam the door in his face the next second. "Detective."

No 'Chloe' at this point; he knows how to be careful, occasionally. Using her feelings no longer grants him this kind of intimacy, the very one he used to hurt her. Chloe's fingers stay on the handle, less tense.

"Good evening," he adds with a shy smile.

"If you've come here to take over from Maze's sexual innuendos, you can go," she tells him, her other hand on her hip.

Chloe instantly regrets opening her mouth. Lucifer arches an inquiring eyebrow and she doesn't miss the amused gleam in his gaze. "One word about it and I'll hit you," she warns him tensely.

She's back to the use of yous again, it's been faster than usual, spontaneous emotions showing once more how much he fucked up with her. She used to be more comfortable with the 'yous', but not tonight. She's far from it.

She's still mad at him.

"I wouldn't dare, Detective. And…" He lifts his hands, slowly turns round. "As you can see, I'm coming to you with no bellicose purpose. No Brittanys, no weapon of mass seduction…."

He glances at his belt, lower than that, lowering his hands. He has a half-smile on his lips.

"Well… barely brought one. I mean, anybody could hardly disarm this weapon of mine."

Looking up, he meets Chloe's death stare. His smile fades, every trace of dirty jokes coming up with it as well.

He gulps, frowns. "Anybody but you, I guess," he murmurs, glancing at her hand still on the handle.

That's way more than three words about it, more than enough for her to turn the handle, release the tension stuck in her fingers. Lucifer's aware of this before she even tries to make a move. He opens his mouth, yet Chloe doesn't give him another chance to speak more words aloud. "Goodnight, Lucifer."

"Lucifer?"

Both he and Chloe turn their heads, the first of them surprised and the second annoyed by Trixie's presence. Chloe suspects Maze has taught her child some 'demon' skills for sneaking out of her bedroom like this. Trixie has never been that discreet, proof is her cry of joy the next second, partly muffled by her race towards the door where she wraps her arms around Lucifer's waist. Far from reacting in step with his usual repulsion for human close touch, Lucifer welcomes hers with another smile and a slight tap - several, actually - on the top of her head. Quite unexpectedly, his reaction softens Chloe's anger. This is enough for her not to push Trixie aside and slam the door shut, at least.

"Hello, child."

"Took you long enough to come to see me!"

"Well, I've…." He looks for words, looks briefly at Chloe. "...been pretty busy."

"With Hell to rule over?"

He raises his eyebrows with surprise. Trixie had never doubted his identity, but she had never talked about it so directly either. Lucifer is like any grown man on Earth, so it seems; convinced that children can't understand most of 'grown-up stuff', until they do.

"With that and other things," he answers quite evasively.

"Speaking of 'being busy'," Chloe takes part. "Lucifer's still busy tonight, Monkey. He was about to leave, right?" she adds for him.

She sees disappointment on his features, which he hides easily by smiling at them. He gently moves Trixie's arms away from his waist and expensive suit. She has hugged him long enough for him to complain about imaginary folds or stains on this 'irreplaceable' fabric, and yet….

Not a word, nor complaint from him.

Chloe fixes her gaze on him, puzzled.

Is he trying to manipulate her again? By using her daughter as a sort of go-between?

Mazikeen's words are played on a loop in her mind.

**_"Lucifer can't say, express anything but the truth."_ **

Is he…  _ happy _ to see Trixie? Happy enough to tolerate longer hugs from her, really?

"Right," he says.

"Can you stay? Please?" Trixie asks him, her hands still clinging onto his suit jacket.

"I-I'm afraid that's not on the agenda, urchin."

"Yes, it is!" Trixie exclaims, bouncing up and down. "It's Tacos Tuesday, it's on our agenda for years and Dad can't eat with us tonight. Right, Mommy?"

"Right, but—" starts Chloe, cut off by her daughter's enthusiasm.

"See?" she says as she turns to Lucifer. "We'll have the full 'Tacos' team if you stay! Can he, Mom?" she adds for her mother, joining her hands in such adorable prayer.  _ "Pleaaaaaseeeee?" _

Manipulation always comes from where she expects it the least, _ when _ she expects it the least. She should get used to her daughter's cute yet unrealizable requests, though. But it isn't unrealizable; neither truly unreasonable. It's Tacos Tuesday, they are less than usual and Chloe might forget her guilt for a few hours if she would say yes to this so reasonable request.

Trixie needs it, she needs to spend more time with her mom and… someone she likes.

She looks at Trixie and Lucifer in turns, eventually sighing her sedition. "Okay, okay! If you're not busy tonight…."

"Nothing I can't postone, Detective," Lucifer says right away, seemingly relieved to get another chance to come in.

She sighs again, stepping aside to let him in, waving her hand towards the living room with a defeated look. As for Trixie, she doesn't hide her joy and victory. She keeps bouncing up and down near him, then takes his hand and drags him along the living room.

"Cool! I'm gonna tell you everything you missed since last time!"

Lucifer exchanges looks with Chloe, gleams of dread exchanged with his partner's delighted one. Here she thought she'd done him a favor by letting him stay at her place….

Every bad action leads to fair punishment, after all.

**-xXx-**

He has a strange feeling.

A rather unpleasant one.

Lucifer is only half-listening to Beatrice's tremendously detailed debriefing, frequently looking over his shoulder to make sure of Chloe's presence. She's here, as her child, as the chilly air coming from the opened window further away.

He isn't back in Hell.

However, he can't get rid of this unpleasant feeling. It feels like Hell, it's overly alike. Chloe doesn't look at him, glares at him whenever she does, doesn't speak, doesn't cry - not since he came in. She's ignoring him.

It is hell.

It's what he wanted, the Detective reacting thus and yet… he bloody can't stand it, to a point that he had ended up on her doorstep that very evening. A few hours was his best, his limit. Both her absence than her last words had brought him in front of her place. It could only mean two things; either nothing had changed despites his efforts, or everything had changed indeed - to such an extent that he has been brought back in Hell without even noticing the transition. If so, Michael must have been much more impatient to punish him for this 'mythological evasion' than he thought. This possibility might seem scatterbrained, but Chloe's looks, the endless guilt he has been feeling….

It doesn't seem _ that much _ scatterbrained.

It seems so real, a straight replica of his reality tormenting him, to use his guilt to the last drop. Finding himself trapped in a hell loop again isn't surprising, neither a first for him. Nor… well, you can hardly speak of 'countable times' with  _ eternal _ punishment.

And as for the first possibility, well… it's not a good one either. Ending up at the same point, although alone and with the only vital person in his life that 'hates' him now - this situation might be considered as worse than Hell. It has been his plan from the start, hasn't it? Stay alone, the only one manipulated by His Father. And yet….

The guilt feeling, the confusion; one or the other, he feels the same.

So….

Hell or Hell-like relationship?

"What did you do?" suddenly asks Beatrice.

"Did?" Lucifer repeats, perplexed.

"You have the same expression I have when I know I misbehaved. That's why Mom didn't want to let you come in? Because you behaved badly?"

"I wouldn't call it 'bad'," he says. "It was the…  _ best _ thing to do; looked like it, at that moment," he whispers with another look towards the Detective.

"So it was 'bad', anyway. Right?"

Turning to Beatrice, Lucifer sighs heavily and unbuttons his suit jacket to sit more comfortably on the couch. "I have no idea, child. I don't even know if all this is real or just coming from my guilt."

Beatrice who lectures him about his past choices and actions looks like Hell punishments enough, after all. He wouldn't have done better himself. He could add it to Hell the next time he would go down there, if he wouldn't be there already. Children lecturing adults, wonderfully hellish.

"What do you mean?" Beatrice asks him shortly after, looking concerned.

She gets up from the floor, walks around the coffee table and sits down beside him.

"What I mean isn't children's concern, from what I heard," eludes Lucifer, careful not to annoy Chloe further by talking about 'adults problems' with her offspring, who is as curious as her mother.

Enjoyable character trait, he must say.

"I'm not a child anymore!"

"I very much doubt that,  _ child. _ "

"I'm already nine. You're a child until you're eight. Everybody knows that!"

"Do they?"

She nods, comes closer to him until her knees touch his. Lucifer is surprised he doesn’t react as usual - moving backwards, sitting up, anything to keep a safe distance between them. He hadn't reacted much to her tight hug on the doorstep either. Maybe it's all about her being a child or not, not anymore, as she just claimed. That or this is another torment from Hell. Either way, Lucifer doesn't risk much by telling her his concerns.

If Beatrice is no longer a child, she would understand. If she is only a figment of his imagination, she would simply listen to whatever he needs to say aloud.

"Tell me," she encourages him. "Maybe I could help?"

While he keeps hesitating, she adds, "Come on! I helped you get in, didn't I? You can trust me."

"Beatrice Decker," he says, pleasantly surprised. "Don't tell me you selfishly used your charms on your mother!"

The little one - nor that 'little', it appears - shrugs with a mischievous smile. "Just helped a friend."

Lucifer looks at her, smiling too.

Friend.

He had never done anything to earn Beatrice's affection, but this word, being called this way - it awakens something within him; something he wouldn't have ever felt in Hell, something coming from reality, from Earth. It is too 'pleasant' as a sensation to belong to Hell. However, he needs to be certain.

"I'm impressed!" he congratulates her.

"You could tell me what's bothering you in return, right?"

He squints, all the more impressed. "You'll go far, urchin. My confession for your help, is that it? Well, I guess it's fair."

Beatrice leans towards him with a deeply focused, serious expression.

"I did behave 'badly', in your mother's perceptions at least. I wanted t-to protect her. If it worked - which is probably the case, given her reaction -, this place is the result of my personal hell loop. My own version of punishment…."

"It can't be," Beatrice instantly refutes his guess, moving backwards on the couch. "You're the King! Kings punish bad people, they're not punished."

"It's more all about guilt than royalty, child. See, I've been feeling…  _ guilty _ since I misbehaved with your mother."

"But why would you end up in Hell for that?"

"There is this strong emotional bond between us both, so… if I cut it, I wouldn't end up anywhere else but down there."

"You really think it's cut?" Beatrice whispers, growing sad.

Lucifer shakes his head, his gaze turning back to Chloe. "How can I know, offspring? I've been feeling nothing but guilt for hours. I can't tell what's true or not…."

"Of course, you can!"

He stares at her.

"You're the Devil," Beatrice explains convincingly. "It's your thing to tell what's true or not. You're focusing on a detail instead of thinking about the whole, it's like me with geometry." She shakes her head, sighs. "I hate geometry…."

"Curious allegory, urchin."

"What's 'allegory'?"

"It's-" Lucifer sighs, shakes his head as well. "Never mind."

"What do you feel, right now?" the child continues, forgetting about vocabulary and geometry.

"Apart from your breath on my cheek, you mean?" Lucifer replies, moving slightly aside, not comfortable enough with this sort of closeness yet.

"Clear your head," she advises him. "Focus on the whole, not the details."

"This is ridiculous…."

"Do it, come on!" she encourages him.

"Like mother, like daughter," mumbles Lucifer before complying. "Very well."

On the whole, hm?

A big picture of it all. It's not his thing to favour global thinking over attention to detail; he is renowned for the latter. Chloe would agree with the truth being a matter of details, of dispersed proof here and there.

Put together into a coherent whole.

Lucifer turns an upset gaze on Beatrice.

She's right... Bloody Hell.

Giving more credit to her 'ridiculous' advice, Lucifer goes over the details; not one by one this time. No, he takes the time to put them together into a coherent whole. And everything cries at him that this is real, that he feels guilty for good reason, that he hates to have reacted exactly like his Father would have, he hates to have to leave soon 'for the good of all' except their own. He hates not knowing what to do with this time together without risking making things worse.

He hates being the main source of her torments, as much as he hates the idea of no longer being this source.

And for all this, he feels guilty; weak.

Far from the man Chloe deserves.

Here is the truth.

Lucifer lets out a deep sigh, taking notice of the urchin's gaze on him. She seems to know that her trick worked, although he is not feeling less guilty. Actually, it is getting worse. _ Really  _ worse.

Smiling shyly at Beatrice, he compliments her once more. "No doubt that you've got your mother's best sides. Thank you."

"You're welcome. So?"

"So what?"

Beatrice nods briefly towards Chloe, whispering further down with an expression of conspiracy; "What did you feel? Is this real?"

"Sadly, it is. I guess our bond is stronger than any vain attempts of mine to stop it."

"That's good news, isn't it?"

"Yes and no," Lucifer answers to her, taking a deep breath.

Chloe's gaze pierces the back of his suit jacket, his shirt and his flesh, it sends apprehensive shivers down his spine. No doubt, the bond is still there; unshakeable. He feels almost stupid himself to think he could undo it so easily.

As stupid as upsetting the Detective can be.

"Why 'no'?" asks Beatrice, eager to know everything, as annoying as ever.

"She's angry with me."

He doesn't dare to turn around this time, but Beatrice does, smiling at her mother. "Looks like it."

Lucifer lets out a mocking exclamation. "It only  _ looks like _ it to you, really?"

She shrugs, her gaze still staying on her mother who keeps looking daggers at him, whatever she's doing. The more she looks at him, the more guilt is eating him away. Terrible feeling, to say the least.

It's the opposite of what he felt in the interrogation room.

"She's anxious, too. Angry and nervous," she says.

"Anxious, you say?"

She nods. "She's always a bit abrupt when she's stressed. Same when she's mad at me or someone else. Was it that bad, what you did?" she asks him afterwards. "Like... 'unicorn on the neighbor's hood'?"

Lucifer frowns. "Unicorn on neighbor's hood?" he repeats, intrigued, an amused smile on his lips.

"My last big mistake," she explains.

"I see. Well, I could hardly vie with your... long-forgotten beasts, offspring; but I guess my behavior isn't far from it, yes."

She starts to think, presses her lips together.

"Then you should apologize to her; you'll feel better."

He laughs, shakes his head. The last time he asked for forgiveness was... That was before. It hadn't stopped his family from rejecting him, from leaving him alone in that place of nightmares and suffering that didn't care about forgiveness.

"I don't think it's that simple."

"My teacher always says that you have to talk to each other to make things right, to apologize," Beatrice insists.

"I never teach that to my students, I assure you."

"What do you teach them, then?"

"I-" Lucifer looks at her, at Chloe. "I'm pretty sure this is a more than _ nine years old _ topic," he says. "Speaking of apologies; will it work with your mother?"

She nods, forgetting the other topic. He lets out another sigh, rubs his hands.

"She won't talk to me or give me a chance to talk to her, I'm afraid."

"I can arrange that!" she offers to him, seemingly excited to help him further.

He stares at her, hesitant. "What's on your mind?"

"Wait! First… my end of the deal."

He slightly moves backwards, arching his eyebrows. "Again?"

"A favor for my help, that's your motto, right? Maze told me and you say it all the time, too!" she tricks him with a smirk.

Like mother, like daughter... Lucifer was wrong. She is worse, worse than her mother. He stares at her without a word, as worried about the favor she would ask him as he is about making things right between him and Chloe. They have so little time left together. In the end, this is the reason why he decides to risk another partnership with another 'Decker'.

"I hope your favor is worthwhile, child," Lucifer grumbles as he offers her his hand to seal their deal.

She shakes on it, her radiant smile disturbing the Devil more than it should have.

"Trust me!"

**-xXx-**

Chloe had to admit that the evening had taken a quite pleasant turn. This had been her first expectation, before Lucifer showed up and stayed - or Trixie begging her to let him stay - at her place. From then on, she had feared long, heavy silences, looks, awkward gestures.

And there had been all of that, in a way.

Still, it hadn't been a total fiasco against a backdrop of spicy tacos, glasses of wine broken by anger, screams and tears.

This is a surprise, a pleasant surprise.

She suspects Trixie of being the main responsible. She is certain she is. Mothers' instincts….

She hadn't missed Lucifer and Trixie whispering in the living room, nor her daughter's innocent question five minutes later about the remaining cooking preparations to do. Chloe had answered to her, agreed to get some help.

And Lucifer had joined her.

For a moment, she had suspected him of plotting against her, to make her do what he wanted;  _ again. _ Then she had noticed his expression; shy, tense, fearful of trespassing on her space, how Trixie had pushed him forward with an encouraging smile….

She was the brains behind the operations, indeed.

Chloe had been tempted to recant, pretend she didn't need any more help or any other ridiculous excuse for not dealing with him so closely. Instead, she had nodded - as shy as he had been. She can still picture him in his side of the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, showing his back to her most of the time, cutting, seasoning, tasting, offering in a calm tone any culinary improvement. There had been silence, looks.

A question. Just one.

She had given in first. Well... it isn't a 'competition'. She had just wanted to know, more than she had wanted to punish him.

"Doesn't that go against your plan? I mean, coming here?"

He had turned to her, offering her his full face rather than his profile. Then a smile, of which she had only been able to glimpse half of the emotions it had shown.

"I've always hated plans."

She had squeezed the rag in her hand, squeezed it until silence returned completely, until the alarm of the oven startled her and separated their gaze for the next thirty minutes. More, if she considers the time passed to eat and the last half hour waiting for him to leave Trixie's bedroom.

Taking her glass of red wine from the coffee table, she smiles. She would have liked to know how her daughter had come to convince Lucifer to read her a bedtime story. A damn long story, judging by the time she has spent alone with her thoughts, sitting on the couch. Chloe has occasionally heard Lucifer exclaiming through the ajar door, Trixie laughing shortly after, or both talking lively about the plausible existence or not of unicorns on Earth.

The silence has just returned a few minutes ago, it probably means that they have come to an agreement about it.

She takes a sip of wine, bringing her bare feet back to the couch.

Her gaze gets lost to the still open window, the curtains moving from time to time with the evening breeze. It's late already, too late for such a long story, but Chloe doesn't want to get up and shorten this moment between them. She wouldn't shorten anything, even the thread of her thoughts. So many things are going through her mind, things as brief as the wind sometimes, like what she still have to do between now and the next interviews tomorrow mid-morning, and things as difficult to move aside as the window itself, like the reason that had brought Lucifer to her place rather than to Lux with those women, like what Mazikeen, Linda had said.

Truth, talk.

Feelings.

"I despise unicorns," someone mutters at her back.

Chloe turns her head, Lucifer closing the door of Trixie's bedroom, looking grumpy. "I've always despised them, bloody golden horns stuck anywhere…."

She frowns, smiling despite her anger. "Unicorns are a thing, then?"

He rectifies for her. '"Were' a thing." He takes his glass of wine from the dining table, sips it quietly while Chloe cannot keep quiet her curiosity about it. She places her hand free of wine on the back of her couch, spreads her legs.

"So… Horns, uh? Stuck…?"

Gazing with great care at the wine slightly moving in his glass so as not to meet her 'almost' laughing expression, Lucifer answers; "I've tried far better dildos since."

She snickers, her glass leaning forward in her hilarity, spilling some wine on her thigh. Lucifer fails at staying serious, not spilling anything like her, though. She wipes as much alcohol as she can with her free hand, her skin soaked in red liquid that soon soaks the couch beneath her. For a moment, she forgets her anger, all these thoughts, these questions never getting real answers - she forgets for laughing with her partner.

Partner.

It stops the next moment, both caught up with their situation, their different feelings, yet 'linked' by higher manipulation, as Lucifer seems to fear. Lucifer looks at her, caught up with tension. He has been tense ever since he arrived at her place. Since much longer.

Ever since he came back….

Before he left her.

She hasn't been relaxed either for a while, to be honest.

Can't they pass this, really? Can't they pass their literal connection? Take advantage of it?

This isn't…  _ punishment _ .

Maybe they just should stop seeing, perceiving their current situation as such - punishment.

Lost in thought, Chloe only notices now that Lucifer has put his empty glass on the table and has taken his jacket back from the chair. "I-I should leave. I thank you for letting me share your meal, Detective."

"Wait! Lucifer, wait."

He stops near the front door. "Yes, Detective?" he asks politely. The more he tried to hide his tension from her, the more she saw it.

The truth, had said Maze. Everywhere, unavoidable, whatever he does or says.

"I-" she says nervously, as vulnerable as he is.

She shows him the free space on the couch next to her, smiling shyly at him. "It was... it was a lovely evening and I-I'd hate to end on this."

"On what?"

"On unsaid things."

He stares apprehensively at her. She continues; "I'd hate for you to go back there on unsaid things." She shrugs, her lips pressed on her emotions, which get out short after a trembling exclamation. "I hate the idea of you going back there, but if you must…."

She shakes her head.

"I have no control over it, but I'd appreciate it if I could have some control about what's going on between us - or the impression of control, at least. Anyway, to do that, to make things work between us, we really should talk about it first, right?"

She meets his gaze, which seems unable to choose between uncertainty and fear since she spoke. He looks like a beast trapped in a cage, claws in his pockets, his eyes looking for an exit, fangs ready to appear behind his quiet lips. The Devil is pictured like a beast in most cases, a wild beast.

Vulnerable.

Lucifer sighs a moment later.

"Will we have to say things in total sobriety?" he asks her, his gaze turned to his empty glass.

She smiles, drinks the rest of hers before handing it to him. "It'll depend on the service."

He smiles back at her, still tense but slowly moving towards a welcome relaxation. Putting his suit jacket on the nearest piece of furniture, he takes the glass from her hands, brushing his fingers against hers. Just like he did at suppertime, for the same reason - the abolition of sobriety.

Awkward gestures…. There have been some, there will be more now.

"The best service on Earth... and anywhere else," he assures her.

The best he is, no doubt about it. You only have to see how - in the space of barely five minutes - he has filled their glasses, a not too unreasonable and adequate quantity to two or three unsaid things to 'say', and has joined her in the living room. His excellence stops when he gives her the glass, however. At this moment, Lucifer becomes as quiet as a mouse once seated at the other end of the couch. Chloe has immediately bent her legs, a wall of flesh and poured wine against her chest from which only the vibrations of her heart come out.

None of them is the 'best' to what would follow.

It took them years to confess something, a feeling already so obvious to anyone else around. Even for Maze.

No, maybe not for Maze.

Chloe breathes in when Lucifer sighs, their breaths and verbal beginnings being stopped by each other.

"Lucifer, I-"

"I want to-"

They laugh, share a look.

"Sorry," Chloe apologies to him, "You were saying?"

"No, I- I guess it's appropriate to let you take the lead, given my behaviour this morning. It's only fair."

"Right, this morning…." she repeats, slightly moving her legs, her toes nearly touching Lucifer's thigh.

She nods pensively. "It's as good a starting point as any other, I guess."

She could start by expressing many things; her anger, why not? She hadn't let go of it all day long and most of the evening. She still is; not so much anymore, just... deeply annoyed that he had used this kind of ploy with her, once again, despite everything that had changed between them. She could start with blame, for that matter. Typical conversation starting point - reminding each other's faults, then moving on to what really matters.

But she is tired of the constant tension between them.

"You seemed convinced that you could put an end to my feelings for you with those girls and your attempts to seduce me in the interrogation room…."

"Correction; the Devil never tries to seduce, he seduces." Lucifer interrupts her, true to himself.

"Remind me again who was left there and who simply left?" she replies, more amused than angry at his intervention.

He makes a face. "Fair point."

She smiles as he sips his drink. At least they are back to good old teasing. She continues; "What made you believe that?"

He sighs.

"It's complicated."

"Start with the simple, then."

He puts his glass on the coffee table, his forearms resting on his thighs still far from her own legs. He rubs his hands together with a furrowed brow.

"My feelings for you are as real, as 'free' of choice as I choose to breathe, Chloe. And... I have no doubt about yours. It's just that— you and I have never really been free to choose, from the beginning. And, umh…."

He shakes his head.

"I can’t stand the idea of a relationship with you with the same conditions. I want more; for you, for me."

"Is it something to do with that pattern? With the 'Persephone' thing and everything else?"

"That and... something else."

"Something else? What else?"

Lucifer turns his head sideways, hesitation meeting misunderstanding. They stare at each other, Chloe clutching her glass against her chest.

"What aren't you telling me, Lucifer?" she asks, almost whispering.

"It's nothing truly dramatic," he immediately explains to her, enigmatic and tense as ever. "I mean... It was dramatic for me at the time, but-but now— Let's just say that I've learned to live with it. I had no choice! I couldn't live without you, so—"

"Just spit it out," Chloe cuts him off without blinking, holding her breath for the next second.

He sits up a bit, staring at her all along, without daring to say. Perhaps Chloe's desperate, frightened look helped him to take the plunge, to say those so complicated words, from that time. Scared, she is - will be soon enough. What could be more terrible, more difficult to reveal to her than his true nature?

He says them. Finally, he tells her. "You're a miracle, Chloe."

She stares at him, puzzled. She frowns, as much as her face is able to express her perplexity. "Thanks for the compliment, but…."

"It's to be taken to its literal sense, actually."

"What?" she exclaims, for lack of understanding.

"It's quite long to explain. Simply put; my Father is kind of...  _ intrusive _ , not to say abusive. From what I heard, He has seen fit to give your father and mother a little push to conceive you. "Then Lucifer shrugs, tense but smiling at her side. "Rather more like cadenced pushes. Strong ones, I bet - we're talking about a walking miracle in God's name, after all."

A miracle.

Chloe, divine conception sitting by the Devil, sipping wine and unsaid things, reacts to the news in the least miraculous way;

"Oh."

* * *

**Tbc**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9 already started! Let's hope I'll keep it under 6k words ^^'  
> #StaySafe #StayAtHome.


	9. I'm nothing like a bloody fruit basket!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe found out about her miracle side. How will be her reaction? Isn't that enough to be the Devil's girlfriend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No jealous - each version of this chap is published the same day! So much work on them… Gosh, I love this fic :3 
> 
> #StaySafe #StayAtHome
> 
> Music - Chasing cars | Sleeping at last.  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/2d7LPtieXdIYzf7yHPooWd?si=X9hO8CEGTkCC2OMaPIMUwA

**I'M NOTHING LIKE A BLOODY FRUIT BASKET!**

9

* * *

Chloe's thoughts instantly come out of her mouth, dismayed possibilities she needs to say aloud. "D-Does that mean that we're related somehow? Like… like a 'stepsister'?"

Lucifer scoffs, "Absolutely not!"

She feels a bit ridiculous when she hears him mocking her dismay bluntly. Her face turns red. "Sorry if I sound that ridiculous to you," she mutters, taking a swig of wine under his amused gaze. " 'Human' perception, remember?"

"I remember. And that probably explains your… 'serene' reaction to such upsetting news. I assumed that you'd be upset - at least as upset as I've been." 

Upsetting? That it is. To be honest, Chloe is really close to reacting as Lucifer expected her to. Of all the reasons he could have given her, she'd never have guessed this one. Yet, the world, _this_ world, once more shows her that she's far from knowing everything. It's probably what's helping her keep a cool head; the lack of knowledge, of reliable facts. That's what she needs to _properly_ react _._

As embarrassed as she is right now, she's nevertheless relieved by Lucifer's mocking yet undoubtedly frank reaction. They're not related, nor do they have incestuous relationship through some equally weird Divine conception. 

Good. _Good._

She shrugs, purses her lips, the fruity bouquet of wine still on them. "I am, but... I just don't know what to do with it yet. Hence my first assumption, 'hilarious' if I take _your_ reaction into account, mh?" 

He sheepishly smiles at her. 

"Was it that funny?" 

"No, no," he reassures her. His hand spontaneously moves towards her knees, stopping halfway. They share another look, nearly bound to each other by another clumsy gesture. Lucifer's fingers eventually end up around his glass with throat clearing and averted gazes from their true desire. "Just unexpected," he says. "Where did the 'step-sister' assumption come from?" 

"Well, Jesus Christ is known as God's son on Earth, right? And he's been conceived the same way, as the Bible tells it."

Lucifer rolls his eyes, sighing heavily. "Again with this story…." he grumbles as he finishes his drink. 

"So... that's not what happened?" Chloe asks, intrigued. 

"Many things didn't happen as that pontificating book tells it. For the few things half-understood by its authors, of course. _Human_ perception, remember?" 

"Okay, but- Which part of Jesus' story has been correctly understood by humans?" 

"It's a long explanation. And has nothing to do with our business here." 

She nods. Not the most important part right now - got it. "Let's save it for another time, then."

Lucifer's face lights up, long enough for her to understand the 'dramatic' extent of the news he'd experienced before. Her understanding is spreading too, so are her concerns, questions resulting from it. Being the miracle of God; what does that exactly mean?

"A miracle," she thoughtfully repeats, her gaze lost in wine ondulations. "So, God's not a part of me? I mean... if He helped my parents to conceive me - where does His influence end, where does it begin?" 

Lucifer opens his mouth. However, Chloe's next questions prevent him from answering any of them. "How does it work? Can anyone see that I'm different? No, maybe not, especially if you found that out later. You found that out, right? So you didn't feel it from the beginning. Hold on!"

She has almost cried, startling him. With raising eyebrows, he waits; tense again, mouth shut on his answers about her. She looks at him, eyes open wide in new understanding.

"You did. You felt it!"

"I—," mumbles Lucifer for any answers.

"You suspected it from the beginning...." she whispers.

_"Did my Father send you?"_

It's really a matter of perception. So many details she'd missed, cast aside because she couldn't understand their true meaning. Imperceptible supernatural fine details. Chloe had felt ridiculous after finding out who Lucifer was. She _is_ feeling ridiculous, not for assumptions this time, but for missing something so obvious. 

Of course it is; it's plain as day.

Lucifer had always scrutinized her every move, analyzed her reactions, seduced her with his gift - his 'mojo', as she called it. All past and present failures. Even this morning. 

He saw how different she was, right from the start. 

"You knew, since we met."

Lucifer's finally able to say something. Or is it Chloe's silence that gives him a chance to say a word, to explain himself? Silence is nevertheless the best way to say how lost she is. "I didn't." 

"You asked me if I was sent by your Dad," she blurts out. "I remember. You knew." 

"I suspected something, yet didn't have any clues at the time. It took me a whole year to learn your 'miracle' side from someone else. Before that... All I knew was that you were oddly _immune_ to my charms, that you made me vulnerable."

"A whole year?" she repeats. "I-Is that the truth?"

"Always the truth, Chloe. 'Point of pride for me, as you know," Lucifer adds, smiling understandingly. 

Although their perceptions differ most of the time, they agree on the fundamentals. He understands how shaken she can be by the news, had always been aware of it when she hadn't, when she hadn't even deliberately conceived by God yet. He understands how she's feeling, how confusing it can be; having felt it himself. 

That's what he said; he used the word 'dramatic' to describe what makes her so special. That and the fact that he learned to live with it. That he was still trying to, wasn't he? Why else would he start with this - the simplest motive, according to him? Of all the motives he had to manipulate her... that was the simplest one, really?

What was the most complicated one?

"Detective? Chloe?"

His voice startles her. She almost spills wine on him for the second time. Fortunately, she only splashes her tense fingertips around the edges of the glass. Her thoughts, subjected to anguish, came one after the other in her mind, although at a speed far below real time. Being in shock could be described this way, for the most part; a series of thoughts, immune to time. Lucifer is looking anxiously at her, because she hasn't said a word for a moment. He doesn't dare to touch her. Yet, it is clear for her that he wants to. He has unconsciously turned his body towards hers, has moved closer, close enough for her to feel the fabric of his pants with her toes. 

Immune to his charms. 

He isn't, immune. 

As for her… not so much anymore. 

"Are you all right?" 

Chloe nods, a quick gesture. She repeats it until she decides to drown her thoughts in wine instead, what's left of it in her glass, at least. Alcohol charms, overly excited with her forthcoming inebriation, burn the inside of her throat. She coughs repeatedly, tears burning the corner of her eyes. She holds her glass against her chest, then nods for the third time. "'M a-al'ght. Just… dig'sting t-things." She can barely speak. 

He gives her a skeptical frown. "I'd rather say 'swallowing', but let's not play semantics."

Chloe is close to choking again, her throat unable to choose between hysterical laughter and alcoholic coughing. 

Despite the tears collecting in her eyes, she notices that Lucifer is as close to hilarity as she is. He's doing his best to keep a neutral - maybe sorry - expression. Anyway, the corners of his mouth turn up in the course of his breathing, each of his new exhalations lifting the mask. He holds on, however - how; she'd really like to know. She's still struggling to breathe properly! He is, although smiling more with every second she passes choking with laughter and alcohol. Lucifer resists until she finally manages to catch her breath and put her glass on the table. She breathes in, her closed fist in front of her mouth, drunk with laughter. She breathes out, moving her fist to the tears clouding her vision. "T-Thank you."

He lifts an eyebrow. "What for?"

Lowering her hand, she shrugs and sits cross-legged. "For distracting me from my... _existential anguish_. I needed that."

He looks surprised, "Oh? So that's what this rutting baboon laugh was - existential anguish?" 

Her eyes blaze with annoyance. "How did you just describe my laugh?" Then she wonders, "'Rutting'? How can you even know when baboons—" Chloe shuts her eyes, letting out a deep sigh. "Can we just get back to the point and forget the last part?"

"Are you sure?" Lucifer asks her worriedly. "Won't you risk further anguish if we persist in this way?"

She shakes her head. 

"That's why we're here, Lucifer. Going through unsaid things, which involves my existential human - miracle -... _my_ anguish," she finally opts for this one with a trembling voice. She observes him sideways, her mouth curving into a smile. "Besides, I know I can count on you to get me back to the point if I ever get disoriented again. So, uhm…." 

Chloe takes a deep breath, squeezes her hands together between her crossed legs. 

"I'm a miracle," she repeats aloud; her voice quavering at first, stronger on the last syllable. She almost sounds fearless when she speaks again, "God's miracle, Your Father... God. As for you, you didn't know who I truly was. You figured that out a year after we met, is that correct?" 

Lucifer nods.

"How did you find out?" 

"My mother told me. Well, she first got the information from Amenadiel." 

"And how did _he_ find out who I was?" Chloe insists, clinging on to her deductive mind like one's clings to a board in the middle of storms. 

Lucifer starts to squirm on his part of the couch, rubbing his hands together and avoiding her insistent gaze. Annoyed, being sorely tested by this new perception of things - this perception of _herself_ \- she puts a firm hand on his. That's all it takes to make him turn his head. 

Not immune at all. 

She could have enjoyed that, if she hasn't been struggling with these revelations in the first place. She even might have used it a little further - for unsaid, yet enjoyable distractions.

"Lucifer." 

He sighs, "It was him".

"Him?" she repeats, puzzled. 

"Father sent him to bless your parents." 

Her hand tenses up on Lucifer's, who lowers his gaze. Turmoil shadows his eyes, which are focused on her fine fingers clinging to his, scratching them with her nails. This shadow is a possibility he can't stand, he can't stand the idea that she might cease to touch him one day. She knows, feels it - her gestures answer to the same fear, the same irrepressible need that has become inexplicable because of all these little unexplained details. 

She can't stop touching him. 

She doesn't want to. 

"He met your mother in a bar," he continues. "This meeting was planned, that goes without saying. And nine months later…." He frees one of his hands and waves tensely at her, plastering a smile on his face. "Detective Chloe Jane Decker was delivered into this world." 

The aforesaid Detective, delivered according to God's Orders, doesn't react, not with words at least. She's lost in thoughts, thoughts analyzing every sentence, every new piece of information, every new detail given by Lucifer. She goes through her all new perception; never pleased, neither convinced enough by his 'first motive'. 

She thus decides to look deeper into it. "How does it work?" 

"Excuse me?"

"How'd he do it? To make me become... what God wanted; how do you create a 'miracle'?" 

Her questions catch him off guard. He scrutinizes her without a word, their hands still joined on his thigh. His brows draw together as he ponders, looking for the best way to describe a divine process to its human result. "It-It's not very complicated," he says. "It's as simple as AI, although an archaic insemination like yours would've been fruitless. Amenadiel— Let's just say that he 'fortified' both parties." 

Her forehead puckers. Lucifer notices her confusion and adds, "Man's seed and woman's womb, Detective. Must I explain procreation to you? Given how Beatrice follows me everywhere, I'm pretty sure you got the 'sex' talk a long time ago!"

She giggles. 

It's that simple, then? Just a 'little help' to mother nature, for setting in motion what was already there? Which means that… that she's exactly how, _who_ she's supposed to be. With or without divine intervention. What mother nature hadn't been able to start, God had; nothing more. 

"I'm as human as anyone else, then?" 

He nods. "Except for a few details, yes." 

A few details. 

It took her a second to understand what he meant. She likes to think that she did thanks to her own deductive skills, through her experience as a homicide detective; not because she's a miracle. And the more she thinks about it, the more she understands. "That's why I'd be immune to your charms, why I make you vulnerable..." Chloe whispers, realization hitting her.

There's also another detail to add to these, the most important detail of the moment - more important than her perception, than her being a miracle of divine insemination. What matters, the most important detail here... is Lucifer, _his_ perception. He said it himself; he's a one-of-a-kind being among celestials. Mostly amongst hordes of demons as well. 

But not amongst humans. 

In many ways, Lucifer reacts like any other human. He reacts to betrayal, rejection, loneliness, an abusive father's influence on his life; not necessarily direct, though - past actions had an influence over present ones. The Lucifer of the past, submitted to God's desires, intended to only live his henceforth. Anything looking like divine intervention in his life turns into odious manipulation. 

A lack of choice. 

Same as before. 

This is his truth, _his_ perception. 

"You think I'm another of His manipulations, don't you?" she asks him. 

"It's really well-played," Lucifer half-answers her. "Make sure that you'd resist me, that you'd change me; that's clever. Even knowing that, I couldn't keep my distance - that's how good He is at manipulating others!" 

"Did it ever occur to you that you chose all this? That we both did?"

He looks at her as if she just insulted him. "You're a miracle, Chloe. You make me mortal and are immune to my devil charms. As far as I'm concerned, these three points are the opposite of choice." 

"I don't see it that way, though."

Fearing that he would run away, shouting again about his lack of choices until he wakes up Trixie, Chloe slightly tightens her grasp on his hand. She tries to make him feel her affection for him through the touch. She rubs her thumb over his knuckles, passing each of her fingers through the light depression between each tensed line of skin. "Just think about it. You just told me that Amenadiel had only helped mother nature to do its work, which means that I'm who I'm supposed to be from the start. And, basically, human beings - human procreation - are only possible because Your Father wants to. I'm inevitably the result of His will... not that I give a damn about it," she adds with a glare up to the ceiling.

Her reaction relaxes Lucifer, who lets out a flabbergasted breath. They smile at each other. Hers is promising; his, lost. 

"We all have free will," she pursues. "Yet, I'm the only one who's immune to your mojo, over all these people you charmed with it." 

"So, I'm just attractive because of my mojo-thing?" he teases her humorously. 

She taps his shoulder with her free hand. 

"My point is, you won't find any other human less 'manipulated' by God than me, Lucifer. I mean- I didn't even think He was a-a _He_ until you showed me the truth! I didn't even take seriously whatever you were telling me half the time!" 

She said it as a weighty argument, but she still feels to blame about it. She hadn't had enough trust, enough faith in him - just him. Therefore, she's surprised to hear him burst out laughing instead of getting rightly upset. Chloe stares at him while he rocks back and forth, the tears starting to form. He lifts his fist to his mouth, avoiding waking up Trixie. With his cheeks turned pink by the wine and his passing vulnerability, Lucifer looks ten years younger - if such a trivial number of years really means anything for someone like him. 

It means enough for Chloe. Enough to arouse her desire to kiss him, to help him contain his hilarity as best as she can. 

She wants to. 

She misses the opportunity, Lucifer breathing out loudly the next second. He wipes the few tears in the corner of his eyes with his free hand, not even moving the other from her touch. "You really are a miracle, Chloe." 

"Now you're repeating yourself." She smiles at him, raising a brow. 

He shakes his head, looking at her with these young glistening eyes. 

"Actually, it's a figurative repetition."

"Oh."

Slight heat rises in her cheeks, probably because of the wine… wine, most likely. This has nothing to do with Lucifer's gaze; how his smile is lighting up his face, how his eyes alone light up her face, this rising fire beneath her skin. 

He beams at her, she burns for him. 

"It was that simple, mh?" He sounds amazed, impressed. "I really should have told you about it earlier, shouldn't I have?"

Chloe smiles back. "You're telling me now, it's all that truly matters."

"That right it is."

His gaze drifts to her mouth, he just looks at her lips, for what seems longer than a minute to her. She can't take her eyes off his lips either, off every inch of his face. When she can, she looks at their joined hands on his thigh. To mid-thigh, the upper part. 

She gulps. "But… it's not your only reason for misbehaving at the precinct, right?"

Lucifer sighs deeply and keeps looking at her. He shakes his head, his gaze eventually drifts towards the coffee table, their stemmed glasses. Hers is empty, his, a slight depositary of 'swallowed' inebriation.

"This dangerously looks like sobriety, Detective," he murmurs, the corner of his lips unable to hide his charms, to which she's supposed to be immune, as God's miracle. 

Immune or not, Chloe quivers. Smiling in turn, she nods favorably towards this serious threat.

**-xXx-**

The whole time Lucifer went back to the kitchen to find them another vintage - the last one having eventually run dry on their lips, eager to open up on more unsaid things -, Chloe keeps wondering about what her true nature implies. They just scratched the simplest surface here. What's left to be discovered remains deeply buried underneath, where their perceptions can't go. Getting her head around the idea that she's not as normal as any other human is difficult enough. Thinking about what it means for her, what it might imply… it could drive her nuts. 

She's not here to manipulate Lucifer with her feelings. If this had really been God's intentions for His son... well, Chloe is worried that mankind depends on such an abusive dickhead.

Her arms tighten their grip around her legs, like a vice, rusted of frightened thoughts. She glances up to the ceiling, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, beating every possible frantic rhythm against her knees. 

One beat, then another, and another....

It sounds like a countdown for her planned existence. 

He wasn't going to kill her for insulting Him, was He? 

No, stupid; it's really stupid to think like that. To tell the truth, she has already feared such a divine sentence, diabolical even; back when she saw Lucifer's face. She feared so many things for weeks after that. God could have struck her down for doubting Him; for helping the Devil to… to 'anything'! The Devil walking freely on Earth, it already sounded very wrong, didn't it? Then she had drowned her despair into old books, biblical or mythological stories - all nonsense, she knows they were now. Then came Father Kinley. 

Her forehead creases. 

How would Kinley have explained this miraculous side of her existence? Probably as a sign, a divine sign to fight Evil. That's what's driving her nuts. That's why she's afraid of being wiped out of existence by God, because she wouldn't have fulfilled her mission. 

It's—

God doesn't create miracles just for fun, right?

Lucifer thinks the same, for wrong reasons and perceptions - not that it means he's wrong about the whole thing. 

She must be here for a purpose. 

She doesn't know what to think about it, nor if it's even wise to think about it at all. This has a pretty good chance of driving her nuts, for good. So she clings on to her only certainty; her feelings for Lucifer aren't God's doing, they aren't about her coming from divine conception - it's Lucifer's, they are about the man who's busy searching for alcohol in her cupboards. 

_"Aha!"_ he exclaims triumphantly. 

Lucifer is back before her a minute later, his gaze on the bottle of bourbon in his hands. Connoisseur's appraisal is visible on his face. "So that's where it was!" 

As a hint of accusation. 

"What's that?" 

He squints, opening the cork as his nostrils flare with its exceptional fragrance. "Don't play dumb with me, Chloe. We both know that my bourbon hasn't come here on its own. And here I thought of another of Maze's mischiefs," he sighs as he puts the bottle on the table. 

"How can you know it's yours and not something I bought in box stores?" 

His laugh can be heard from the living room while he walks back in the kitchen, only to reappear a minute later with two clean glasses in each hand. 

"Now you're insulting the Devil's obsession, dear. Leaving aside the fact that my expertise is beyond sober doubts, you won't find a bourbon of this quality in any box store of town."

"You haven't drunk it yet," she replies.

"You don't just 'drink' bourbon, Detective. You also smell its aroma."

"Lucifer, aka the Sniffer Devil…" she says, amused. " 'Definitely sounds like you!"

"That makes at least one of us, Detective 'Light-fingered'. Its price alone betrays you. How you turned out badly, worse than I'll ever be, perhaps!"

He hands her a half-filled glass. Chloe gives him a suspicious glare. "It's not that expensive…." 

"Isn't it? Four hundred and fifty dollars," he informs her, short after the first swig. "Excluding taxes, of course." 

For the third time in a matter of a few hours, Chloe almost spills alcohol on Lucifer. Disgusted both by the price and the burning sensation that runs from her mouth to the pit of her stomach, she puts the glass back on the coffee table; gazing at Lucifer's amused expression when she wipes the corner of her lips. 

"Well, well! If that's not indisputable evidence!"

Fine. Okay, she _might_ have taken a few bottles from his bar but only because she had felt desperate to... 'feel' him. She’d just wanted to prolong the illusion of his presence, his smell, all the way to the doors of sleep. 

She won't tell him, though. 

"That's... two weeks of vacation for Trixie," Chloe whispers, shaking her head. 

Lucifer raises a brow, placing his glass on his thigh. "In a tool shed?" Then he inclines his head to the side. "That explains her enthusiastic reaction for the steps leading up to my bedroom. Everything looks 'princely' compared to a few hundred bucks." 

She chuckles and sits back. The couch feels comfortable against her back and she lets her neck rest backwards, putting her feet on the table. Letting her glass there wasn't a bad idea, she's already feeling... too out of her senses, out of her sobriety, to continue their conversation the way she wanted. Although Lucifer had been used to it for centuries, he's starting to show the first signs of a deliberate, vital inebriation too. Still at the other end of the couch, he's no longer sitting upright, taking advantage of the comfortable back support as well. 

Mortal with her. 

He's everything.

With her. 

"Is that what you promised to the Brittanys? 'A few hundred bucks', hm?" 

He looks truly offended. 

He sits up. "Who do you bloody take me for?"

"Then what?" she wonders, shrugging a bit. "Don't tell me they agreed with this out of the… the goodness of their heart!"

"Nothing of the sort," he says more seriously. "I told you, they were my first choice because of their long experience in the matter. They were glad to oblige me by playing another round. I didn't threaten, nor bribe them; I would never command anything related to sex to anyone."

Chloe looks at him for a long time, moving on the couch to face him. Her arm placed on the backrest and her right leg bent before her, her knee is now resting above his thigh as he doesn't even try to move away from her. 

"You really had a foursome with these girls?"

He doesn't have the chance to answer that as his face already has, as much as Chloe who lets out a sigh, "Sure, you did."

She rests her cheek on her palm, her fingers lost in her loose hair, smoothing curls, placing a lock behind her ear while she's thinking about what he just said, what he expressed to her. What comes out of her mouth then comes from her feelings, uncontrollably. "And you wanted to play another round… with me?"

Lucifer frowns. "Is it that surprising?"

She shakes her head, feels fire rising into her cheeks. She feels very suggestive pictures rising from her thoughts to her senses, to that innocent knee resting on his leg. She breathes in, closes her first in her blonde hair. "I— It's just-... I thought you were bluffing." 

"I was playing on the truth, I'd say," he reassures her with a smile. 

"Playing on the truth?"

He bobs his head, taking another swig of bourbon. "Yes. I never lie, especially not about this. I'm aware that doesn't excuse what I've done," he adds right after, still ashamed about it. "All I was trying to accomplish was to free you from my influence." 

"To free me?" Chloe repeats, coming back to more important stuff than Lucifer's orgiastic desires. "Wait... You said I might be manipulated, but not by you." Now she's getting lost. 

"That's what I thought at the time, yes." 

"But now?" she insists. "What do you think _now?"_

He takes his time to answer her, sighing, mechanically placing his hand on Chloe's knee. He starts to draw the fine curves of her skin in a slow back-and-forth motion of thoughts. He is no longer hesitating, he's not shy, nor embarrassed; simply out of sobriety, relieved.

That's what emerges from it, relief.

"I no longer think that you might destroy me with our mutual feelings. A positive though. I guess..." he adds, and she hears his uncertainties. "I mean- I don't feel this weight on my chest anymore, but—" he pauses, his hand also pausing on the top of her knee. "But I also feel so much more." 

He exhales, a corner of his lips lifts; double expression of his perplexity. Then he murmurs, giving her a half-shrug, "This is bloody confusing." 

"Yeah… tell me about it," she whispers back. 

Lucifer's eyes bore into hers, his hand continuing this gentle, slow touch on her leg. He smiled tenderly at her and Chloe's thoughts became increasingly confused, her heart pounding wildly and her breathing quickening, for a smile. For confusing feelings. 

"That's... that was my second motive," Lucifer says. 

"Your feelings? You were talking about 'influence' five minutes ago."

"In our case, our mythologized case; it's all the same."

She blinks. "I— I won't be against more explanation here."

He nods, taking another sip under Chloe's questioning, lost, curious, and anxious gaze. He's coming to his most complicated motive, which seemed insurmountable for him. He said 'second'; the second motive.

Second.

Not the last one.

She only has two main concerns at the moment; this myth, what it means for her, how it would affect their relationship and when he should leave her. She wants to know, more than she wants to silence this anguish deep down within her. 

"I know, I- Might as well start by separating mythology from reality. As for the mythological part, Persephone's charms - godly human creature walking on Earth - would ha—"

"Would have hit the Devil straight in his heart?" Chloe suggests. 

She leans towards the table to reach her glass, moving away from the 'real' Devil who's smiling, amused by her wording. Chloe, glass in hand, leans back against his leg, unable to not touch him. He looks down, looks at this touch. His smile widens. "I'm one hundred percent sure that you aimed for the leg."

Chloe stops her glass before her lips, replying then; "Mythology first, Lucifer."

Still smiling, he nods. "Right. _Hades_ \- myself, then; not the worst name I got - was instantly attracted by her beauty and took her with him to the Underworld. Whether unwillingly or not, human sources disagree on this point; from a strictly mythological point of view, of course. Everything was going well in the brave hellish world until Persephone's mother threatened Zeus with destroying the harvest if Hades didn't give her back her daughter. Convinced by his brother, or truly caring about Persephone's happiness, Hades agreed to let her go."

"But there was a catch, wasn't it? There's always a catch," Chloe intervens. 

"There was," Lucifer confirms her. "Once again, there isn't one single version about it, but Hades - or one of his servants - had given her a fruit that only grew in the Underworld, a pomegranate. Persephone ate it before going back to Earth with her mother. However, her fate was already sealed. For a single bite, a human desire."

Chloe shakes her head gently. "Why is it always about fruits with you?"

They both laugh. 

"Blame human perceptions, Detective, not me. There's nothing I can do about your unrivalled prudishness!"

"What does our prudishness have to do with fruits?" 

"Well, you tell me! The Devil's manhood and an apple aren't similar, are they?" he exclaims, outraged in said manhood, which is perfectly perceptible under his pants. 

That or both Chloe's inebriation and imagination are influencing her perception. 

He pursues, unaware of her thoughts, "My love for you is nothing like a pomegranate, is it? _I'm_ nothing like a bloody fruit basket!"

"What did you just say?" Chloe finally reacts. She lifts her gaze up from his crotch to his face. 

He shuts his mouth, realization hitting him. 

He never said it, not really. 

_"My first love was never Eve, it was you. It always has been."_

**_"...now that I'm literally yours."_ **

**_"I'm yours."_ **

**_"Such a literal love between the Devil and a human is already an unprecedented situation."_ **

**_"My feelings for you..."_ **

Never. 

And this isn't really... it's not really _the_ words. 

Still, it's _more_ , more than he'd ever told her so far. So many words, instead of three simple ones. Complicated. She feels both hopeful and frustrated to focus on just these almost three words. This is such a cliché. 

How old is she; sixteen? 

It's like she told Linda this morning; her feelings, they're a mess. She's thinking like an overly emotional teenager. This is insane. And confusing. This thought is followed by another, Linda's amused words about this emotional mess. 

It's only natural since she loves him. 

It's only natural that she wants to hear these words from him. 

Still, there's more than that. 

Nothing is really normal when it comes to Lucifer. 

"I-I—" he stammers. 

It seems too hard for him to say the three words aloud, no matter how much he wants more for their relationship. So Chloe puts aside her pain to appease his. That's what it means, right? Loving someone? 

" _That_ would be the connection between me and reality?" she wonders. She notices how tension instantly leaves his shoulders, how he exhales. "Our declaration?" 

_Unsaid things,_ she keeps repeating to her wounded, desperate emotions. _Focus._

"You told me," she continues. "Two weeks ago." 

"Right."

"So, what you meant was that... that our feelings can affect us, affect our lifespan?"

"Well, if we take the myth into account," Lucifer sits up, thus forcing her to move away from his leg, from vital touch. "Persephone was bound to the Underworld forever. She might have died if she had stayed on Earth."

"Which means that, if I'd have stayed longer without you, I could have _died?_ " Chloe gasps, gawking at him. 

Her past odd inability to feel anything but Lucifer's absence in her life had worried her, everyone had been. It still worries her. It's been nothing like classic depression, separation. 

Nothing is normal when it comes to Lucifer, right?

That is quite an understatement.

Lucifer pulls her out of her anguish once more. "No! Of course not, I- I highly doubt that you'd have been as affected as I have. I could have been wiped out of existence, but - fortunately; or unfortunately - my Father took actions before it ever got to that. Like Zeus did, to prevent a catastrophic famine on Earth." He smiles, in no way appeasing Chloe's anxieties as she keeps gawking at him. He adds lightly, "Typical of Divine Superpowers, it seems."

"You—" Chloe's voice is a whisper - she takes in a deep breath, "... _could_ have been wiped out of existence?"

He shrugs as if it's nothing. But it's not 'nothing', it's terrible that he thinks it is. 

" 'Immortal" is just an adjective, Detective. One perception among so many others." 

"Ho—" She shakes her head. "How? And I thought it was me; you were talking about Persephone as if we were the same person, so—" 

"It's hard to explain, really." He smiles understandingly at her again. "Believe me, I wish I could explain it to you more clearly, but without Uriel.... He's— He _was_ the subject matter expert. He and my Father. And, as we both know, this bloody Bastard is quite fond of 'unsaid things'." 

Chloe ignores his last sentence, nevertheless intrigued by it. Hadn't Lucifer told her that he'd made a deal with Him, that He isn't pleased with the situation? There's nothing more to say. No, what really catches her attention is the deep sadness in Lucifer's voice before that, when he has spoken about his brother, in the past tense again. 

_Immortal_ is just an adjective....

She misses the opportunity to question him - Lucifer already continuing with his 'hard' explanations. "Some parts of the story might be about me, certainly the last one. As for the rest, it's hard to say. Anyway, I'm convinced that our declaration is the connection. It's the cause of all this.. And I... I feared that-...if I'd listen to my feelings, things could get worse. For both of us."

His glass is empty in his hands. Lucifer shakes his head, not looking at her. 

"You see, angels… oddly show their feelings." He pauses, then snorts. "It's a 'show', for sure. That's why Amenadiel lost his powers when he realized how foolish he'd been to bring Malcolm back from the dead, that's why I lost my Devil face for a while, then got my wings back... that everything changed shortly before Dromos showed up in town." 

"When you turned int—" Chloe stops. No, there is no difference between Lucifer-Devil and Lucifer-Lucifer. None."...when you turned _back_ to your human self," she rephrases, her thoughts back to a few months ago. "After the masked ball at Lux." 

Then she studies him, realizing what it meant.

"I can't believe we—" she exclaims, not believing how stupid she's been, how they both were.

Their perceptions agree on the fundamentals, fundamentally deluded by their conviction to 'know'. She shakes her head, nibbles on her bottom lip before turning to him. "We were convinced that the prophecy was the reason, that Evil shall be released. Your skin, your wings, your mojo… All this was—" Chloe laughs, ridiculously human, "-just your feelings showing off?!"

Lucifer nods as an answer.

"They really have strong effects on you," she whispers shortly after. 

This is crazy. 

"And given your half-divine origins," Lucifer waves his hand towards her. "I can only assume, of course, but with our situation here…." 

"No, you're right." she agrees. "It could— T-That makes sense. It's insane, but… makes sense," she laughs. 

Totally insane…. 

A miracle and a fallen angel are already... already incredible! But them, loving each other so intensely - Chloe couldn't have described it any other way, it was intense; it still is - to come to… to let themselves waste away from one hell to another, the one and only true Hell. 

This is insane. 

So… she was right, wasn't she? Everything she's felt since he's back has been 'amplified'. This is her, only her. Because she's… a miracle? Because he's him; an angel influenced by his emotions, more than anyone else could ever be. 

They needed to be together. 

Shaking her head, Chloe lifts her still full glass to her lips. Her hands are shaking so she slowly tilts the glass to avoid spilling alcohol anywhere else but down her throat. Lucifer quietly stares at her, not even daring to move and pour himself another drink. Perhaps it's no longer essential, on the verge of said inebriation, of one last unsaid sobriety. 

She could use another drink, though. 

For this new understanding and the one to come. They need to be together, yes; however, Lucifer said that the last part of the myth was about him. Not her. Another need, then. What did he whisper the week he returned; in her bathtub? 

**_"Also, my royal duties took a very literal at the temple back then, so… 'a problem it is for sure. L'ke Persephone."_ **

Coughing as unnecessary alcohol burns the inside of her throat, Chloe puts the empty glass between her and Lucifer, looking at anything but him. 

Like _him_. 

Caught in-between. 

Lucifer is 'her' Persephone; because she definitely feels like Demeter, like Hades. There was no way she could ignore his wants. There was no way she was going to let him go back there forever.

Not again. Not for her sake, _not again!_

"I get it, now. I get why you tried to put an end to all this." She hears him sigh, gazing at him as he lowers his eyes, suddenly fascinated by the reflection of light on his glass. "'Got it, even if it's stupid." 

Hearing this, Lucifer lifts his head; wounded in his pride. 

"I beg your pardon?" he scoffs, staring at her. 

She shrugs. "It really is, Lucifer. It's stupid because even if our 'crazy, literal' emotional connection would date back to that night - somehow -... What we had, before this moment, it didn't happen overnight. We've played cat and mouse for years; from Delilah's case to partners, partners to friends, and friends to... to 'us'! Destroying something that took so long to build, it's not that easy." 

He opens his mouth, but she doesn't give him time to reply. "It's also stupid because these feelings aren't just about me, as you seemed to think. It's something that's happening to both of us, something we're living together. You can't have one without the other. And it's also insanely stupid to think that my feelings for you, whether I'm one hundred percent human or not, can be manipulated like that."

She shakes her head, smiling at Lucifer with all these unfailing feelings. 

"If God couldn't manipulate me, why - you, the Devil- could you?" 

Awe transforms his face, yet his eyes show... mixed feelings about her last reply. A smirk appears on his lips. He squints, "Don't you just say something like… 'together', mh?" 

She lets her own smile extend to the human limits of her face, watches him put his glass on the table. He leaves the bottle untouched as well. This is the last unsaid thing for him, then. Good, she can't bear to hear any more of it. She's got plenty enough with hers.

"Well… depends. Might be if you make things right." 

He arches an eyebrow. " 'Things' excluding sex at the precinct, I assume?" 

She nods. "There's that, yeah."

Lucifer leans against the back of the couch, peering at her. His gaze shows her _everything_. Each uncontrollable, literal emotion he's feeling right now. Enjoyment, hope, guilt... tenderness. Especially tenderness. 

"Am I forgiven?" he asks her.

She thinks about it for a moment, mostly helped by alcohol and Lucifer's gaze to make her decision. That and the decreasing number of unsaid things between them. "I guess. Well, I mean... You're gonna have to make it up to me, that's for sure!" 

He chuckles. "I'm at your disposal, Detective." His blissful expression turns into perplexity a second later, "Still, I'm curious to know your thoughts about this unshakeable bond between us. It doesn't bother you, really? Even with the 'Devil part'?" 

Chloe purses her lips, thinking longer this time. "No more than with any other relationship, I suppose," she says as she rests her chin - suddenly too heavy - on the back of the couch. "Actually, I was mostly afraid that I couldn't feel on my own anymore, if you know what I mean?" 

She blinks several times, her eyelids drop before her eyes, submitted to the vice around her skull. 

"The 'literal' part freaked me out, 'nd not a little. Not being able to tell the difference between my human feelings and this 'Hell-Queen' feeling, but... 'seems there's none. Just feelings." She covers her mouth with her hand, yawning. "You still piss me off so... It's not that bad." 

He laughs softly, also resting his neck against the backrest, his face turned towards her. "We're nevertheless engaged in shady dealings, Detective. God knows how this is going to end." 

She gives him a half-shrug.

"And, as for the rest, we can live without Him and His plans. Just... live for today?" she proposes. "Baby steps, you know?"

Lucifer's eyebrows rise, "Baby steps? What's on your mind?"

Chloe takes a deep long breath, her gaze going up to the ceiling, to tiny imperfections that the paint hadn't been able to hide. Imperfections... quite like the ones they had been trying to use as a shield all this time; why it wouldn't work, according to them.

"How about a date? With no dramatic interruptions, no manipulations or silly attempts to show who's worthy or not, hm? Just dating." Her mouth curves into a smile. "Maybe even a kiss or two. For starters, at least."

Lucifer doesn't say anything for so long that she fears - for a second - a refusal. Perhaps it's too much to ask, or not enough, depending on whom you ask. Like she said, they've played cat and mouse for years. One kiss or two? Done. A date? More or less. 

What if he just wanted to get to the point? 

They've beaten about the bush long enough. 

Finally, Lucifer gives his answer. "Tonight might be considered as a date, right?" 

"Right," she squints. 

"And... to follow your pattern, maybe we sh—"

Lucifer is interrupted by Chloe's lips on his. Caught off guard at first, he quickly gets a grip on himself and begs for as much as he gives her. His hands find their place on her thigh, her neck, moving up in her loose hair. She likes how his stubble feels under her, smooth when she moves her fingers from his chin to his cheek, prickly when they move back to his jaw. How he deepens the kiss when she lets them clutch his curls, how she can't tell just who moans. 

Does she?

Him, then?

They are one, in some ways, some patterns, so it doesn't really matter. 

They know what truly matters. 

What they are feeling. 

They reluctantly move away from each other's lips, the air remaining the most essential need. Chloe is half-lying on top of Lucifer, intoxicated with his presence, with alcohol, with feelings. In this position, so close to the forbidden fruit that she can feel it growing hard against her thigh, she begins to wonder if it wouldn't be wiser to skip a few steps. 

His hand moves from her leg to her lower back, the other busy with her face alone. His thumb draws the line of her jaw, her chin and pauses not far from her half-opened mouth, still torn between her need for air and that of his lips on hers. 

"Definitely feels like a kiss or two," he murmurs, pleasingly gazing at her mouth first, then her eyes clouded with alcohol. 

She giggles. 

Their foreheads touch, eyes shut, open to what they are both feeling. 

"I'm sorry," he says, his breath tickling her chin. 

With Lucifer's hands cupping her face, she wraps hers around his wrists; another slight pressure on his skin. "You better be. Trixie's got a lot more bedtime stories, y'know?" She teases him. 

He laughs softly. 

Silence soon becomes essential at this moment, as much as this touch. She wouldn't have broken it for anything in the world, not even for those few unsaid things left aside. She knows enough for tonight. She knows he is the King, servant of her Queen. She knows how determined he is to get more for them. Chloe listens to Lucifer's deep breathing mingle with hers, touching her skin, then her forehead once she has moved. She listens to his heart beating strongly beneath her palm, her head nestled in his shoulder. She feels his presence. 

She must have dozed off at some point. One second after she shuts her eyes, she feels Lucifer move under her to free himself from her embrace, her heavy eyelids opening onto almost complete darkness. She digs her nails into his shirt. 

He freezes. 

"St'y." 

It doesn't sound like words, just drowsy syllables. Anyway, Lucifer does hear her. He lies down, closing his arms around her again, his breath tickling her forehead as it's supposed to. She shuts her eyes and lets sleep carry her away, although she stays within the Devil's range. Within his word. "For as long as He'll allow me to, Chloe."

**Tbc**

* * *


	10. Two 'Hail Lucifer' in one thrust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!  
> This chap is shorter than the previous one, but I hope you'll like it anyway. The shorter, the better - right? (sometimes). The next one might come back to usual length, though. So much to tell! 
> 
> Music : 'The Way I like it' | The Phantoms  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/23LCeAWl7E3y94FNYdRr2z?si=9wT06ft-QreWzAc47hhKpA

**TWO 'HAIL LUCIFER' IN ONE THRUST**

10

* * *

It's round. 

It's red.

And it fits in the palm of her hand. 

Not exactly a fruit, even less a pomegranate from hell... but those were just details. 

As long as it has the right shape, color, that it fits in her palm, Chloe can totally be entitled to a modern version of Persephone. 

The stress ball rolls to her other hand, the right one welcoming its round form on the roll back, a perfectly straight line from limb to limb on her desk. From one point to another in space. 

Earth and Hell are farther apart than this. 

It's nothing like a straight line. 

She stops the ball in her left hand, runs her fingers over it, its shapes warping slightly, made for this - to warp her worries. She puts the tip of her index finger on it, rubbing back and forth before adding the pressure of her middle finger. The ball, which has turned into rubbery ripples, rolls towards the keyboard, bounces on its keys, and then rolls back, submitted to her anxious grips again. 

From one hand to the other, her gaze has changed course, it has followed the unexpected direction taken by this metaphorical pomegranate, focusing on the text on her screen. 

_...Zeus sent Hermes to convince Hades to release his illegitimate wife. Before releasing her, Hades placed a pomegranate seed in her mouth, knowing that its divine taste would force her to come back to him. In other versions of the myth, she might have been free if she hadn't eaten anything during her captivity in the Underworld. But, at the last moment, Hades gave her a pomegranate seed. In the end, a compromise was made and Persephone regained her freedom but had to live with Hades for a third of the year (or, according to some tales, half the year). _

From the forefinger to the ring finger of the other hand, she starts to count.

Then, from the ring finger to the other middle finger, she counts the rest, quiet notes tapped against the rubbery fabric without her gaze drifting from anywhere other than these few sentences.

Two thirds of the year, 'earth' year.

Eight for four.

Or four for eight, like this other told version from another book?

Four.

Unfair score.

She takes a look at her calendar.

Maybe not?

The versions agree quite well on two periods, but quite not on their length of time. He had told her about mankind's flawed perception, many times - honestly, she could hardly contradict him or take offense before these variable details. Never a single version, single consequence, single action that had changed everything….

Yet, he was gone six months.

Six.

Not eight. 

That was the other told number, the other parable about 'meeting halfway'.

That would have been more accurate. It is more accurate, more what she hopes for. 

Six for six. 

Added to this detail, there are the seeds eaten by the Queen of Hell; imprecise in some versions, specified at six in others. Sometimes only one, sometimes one more - but it's the number 'six' that comes up most often; for most versions.

Six.

They deserved this, didn't they? As much time together as apart. 

_ Ask him.  _

That and others, old and new questions carried by his basic explanations. Her list of questions is as long as her arm. The biggest question is whether she had enough time to ask all of them or not, and maybe get an answer for each one.

The oldest question remains the most important.

A matter of time.

Dropping the ball in her open drawer, Chloe closes those browsers of human, perceptible indecision; her mind - like her screen - getting back to more professional concerns. 

After three biographical paragraphs about the victim, her concerns take a U-turn, alerted by the empty chair at the other end of her desk. She knows how boring paperwork can be, but he couldn't avoid it forever - not that he tried to lately. 

Not as exciting to keep her company now that they had cleared the air, is it? 

After all, she had woken up alone this morning. 

Chloe gently shakes her head, turning her attention back to her reading. 

It shouldn't affect her that much. This is what she wanted, getting back to normal, getting answers - she controls her body, emotional responses about him, this, anything. Going back to her original self. She knows she hasn't forgotten how being herself now, neither has changed for the Devil. 

She hasn't. 

It's just... more. An improved version. Love 2.0.

Not seeing him around bright and early isn't dramatic; annoying, but not dramatic. Also slightly disappointing. 

Because if she hasn't changed for him, things have changed between them; they needed to, to evolve into something better. Little by little. Not waking up alone on her couch, with the sun in her eyes and dry mouth; that would have been better. 

A 'slight' better. 

Better than the first version, too. 

She can still picture him, like it was yesterday. But that was two weeks ago, the only time she had seen him stay on that couch for a whole day and night, waking up the next morning - the first time in months, six months. She wishes she could have seen his long eyelashes brushing his skin, without any bruises from Hell - the one they had endured from one space to another -, the quick movement under his closed eyelids and this deep breath before opening his eyes. 

It would have been better, to finally know if he was breathing in as loudly each time. He had teased her about her 'Albanian' snores the first year - she doesn't, just inhales deeply through her mouth from time to time - and she'd have liked to return him the favour this last year. 

That and many other little details. 

He's the Devil, fine; but 'imperfect' Devil next to 'God's miracle'. 

Rubbing her hands together, she thinks back to the same movement last night; in his hair. Perfect, damn representation of his perfection. 

She smirks.

_ Almost _ perfect. 

One hand, ideally two, is enough to find out the truth - unruly curls, hair details of something better between them. 

**_"I want more; for you, for me."_ **

Chloe lets out a sigh in front of her screen before rubbing her temples.

She'd just like half of the pomegranate. 

Two equal parts. 

She looks back to the chair, still empty - unequal parts to Lucifer's sustained presence. She'd spend enough time without him so that she wouldn't have to endure his absence already. 

So, as pathetic as it might look - as much as she thought it so yesterday at the same time, same place - Chloe takes her phone out of her pocket, playing new silent notes; from one modern Persephone to her Hades. 

**C: Where r u?**

Once the text has been sent, she turns the phone twice between her fingers, playing more notes afterwards. 

**C: Pb at Lux?**

She is obviously pathetic one minute later, grasping the device with both hands as soon as she heard it vibrate on the desk. 

_ L: Not at all, Detective.  _

_ L: Lab _ . 

She frowns, reading the last word again before turning around. 

Nothing at first, then Lucifer's imposing silhouette passes in front of the lab window. Leaving the phone and stress ball at her desk, she opens the door a minute later, as much puzzled from one place to another. "Lucifer?"

"Detective!" he welcomes her cheerfully. "Just the person we needed!" 

"It's cheating if you get help!" 

"The Devil doesn't cheat!" he exclaims, sounding offended. 

"Who knows, hm?" Ella teasingly replies.

"I do, because I  _ am _ the Devil." 

The door wide open, Chloe hears Ella's sigh in the back of the lab. "How about you playing Adnachiel for once? He's not the cheating type... angel of truth and all that, without  _ cheating! _ " 

Chloe looks at the angel, subject to interpretation, almost choking after her colleague's friendly proposition - albeit sore loser, apparently - , her elbows on her desk, Lucifer's face and hers as close to her laptop as it can be. 

Lucifer instantly sits up, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Turning to his partner, who's more intrigued than open-mouthed, he asks for her assistance; "You tell her, Detective! I'm done shouting myself hoarse about the truth!"

Ella rolls her eyes before she gets the chance to speak.

"Nah, 'no needs. Chloe is so into you - She'd say anything to please you, buddy. I guess that's love, uh? With a capital L!" She then notices Chloe's frown and adds with a smile, "A super  _ cute  _ capital L!"

"Who doesn't cheat, Miss Lopez," Lucifer insists. 

Chloe opens and closes her mouth. "Lucifer?"

"Detective?"

Ella's smile widens like never before… the last hours. She crosses her hands beneath her chin, mouthing two words; 'super cute'. The red walking heart on her blue sweater tells her appraisal quite clearly.

Chloe is surprised that she hasn't yet printed 'Deckerstar' T-shirts for her and half the precinct.

If she's destined to be embarrassed at work….

Chloe looks away, to Lucifer. Her eyes linger on him much longer than necessary, losing their way through his hair - not a single curl, damn perfect hair style -, to his eyes, warm brown perdition. Then on his body, down from his black shirt and gray suit jacket to his belt and its iron buckle. 

Cute?

Not the first word crossing her mind. 

She waves towards the door. "I- How long have you been here?"

"Oh, just came around 9 AM," he says. "I didn't want to repeat yesterday's lateness so I left you to your throaty snores this morning to stop off at my place. Once there, I changed and arrived right on time to assist you." 

Chloe sees Ella's expression change throughout his explanation. Avoiding meeting her gaze glinted with innuendo, she asks him; "But... I haven't seen you since I arrived." 

"True. You were taking your time to show up; expected side effects from sleeping soundly in the Devil's arms, I guess…" Ella coughs, Lucifer staring at her for a brief moment before continuing; "So I made us some coffee, as some for Miss Lopez. Such an early-bird! Aren't you, darling?"

"Hmm," Ella coughs, her broad smile barely hidden beneath her closed fists. 

"I didn't get that coffee," Chloe distinctly points out to him. 

Lucifer studies the bottom of his own mug. "You didn't need it anymore, Detective. I saw you coming in with your Thermos; clever strategy by the way - this concoction is bloody undrinkable, with or without a generous amount of bourbon," he sighs as he puts the mug back on the table. 

"So...you did see me coming in? An hour ago?" Chloe recaps, folding her arms, her fingers tapping a few annoying notes on them. "And you didn't join me?" 

That's... This wasn't the 'better' she'd imagined. 

It's far from whatever she'd imagined after last night. 

Lucifer nods. "You were doing just fine without my help." 

"Of course... because paperwork is secondary; no need to support me, got it."

He smirks. 

"I would have gladly joined you, if you'd have another computer screen - to support you properly."

She squints, her mouth set in a hard line.

"Sure…" she mutters without taking her eyes off him, annoyed gray orbs that don't need much to blaze. "I should get one! Maybe Ella's, hm?"

Ella, quiet admirer of their conversation so far, sits up on her stool, shaking her head. 

Lucifer scoffs at her last comment, not at all worried by her perceptible annoyance. "Uh-uh... jealous again, Detective?" 

"Again?" Ella repeats, much too interested in Chloe's love life - although not caring about her possible jalousy. 

She has no reason to care, though. Chloe is in no way jealous. 

She's not. 

Not jealous. 

Chloe shakes her head while Lucifer turns his to Ella, also very interested by the reaction of the latter. "Oh, she didn't tell you about the first time? Our repeated private talks may have been confusing, for sure! Although the Detective had really nothing to fear from your side of the bargain. I've never been so bored in my life - just two fornications during confession!" His smirk turns into an inappropriate smile, "Two 'Hail Lucifer' in one thrust, so to speak - or cry." 

Ella turns to Chloe, her eyebrows arching with Lucifer's explanations. Once he finishes, her smile has reached new heights, her eyebrows can't go higher on her forehead, really.

"Ooooh, since my first year here?  _ Decker!" _ she exclaims, her hand placed above her true and painted heart. "You're flattering me!" 

"Never doubt your assets, dear," Lucifer adds. 

"I'm  _ not _ jealous," Chloe rebels, rising heat in her cheeks. 

Not jealous at all. 

Lucifer, like Ella, stares at her skeptically. Leaving the debate at its starting point, Chloe points the laptop with her chin. "Anyway… I doubt that whatever's going on with this screen can be more exciting than a murder to solve."

"This isn't about the screen, Detective. But your..." gazing at Ella who has once again sat up, a protest on her open lips, Lucifer adds,"…'impartial' opinion could be helpful here." 

Her arms crossed on her chest, Chloe glares at him. "Oh, so... now it's  _ my _ turn to assist you?" 

Lucifer nudges her colleague, his cheeks digged with dimples that are, if not 'cute', undoubtedly irresistible. "Isn't there a better partner in the world, Miss Lopez?" 

Hearing him, Chloe's annoyed expression cracks open with a flicker of a smile. She rolls her eyes and shuts the door, Lucifer's 'absence-presence' already half-forgiven, her full forgiveness won with a simple look - brown heat brushing her face, lips and neckline - red cotton on blushing skin. 

Like a pomegranate. 

Like Persephone.

She joins Hades, who's caught up in a completely different debate with Ella. 

"Look at its shape, Miss Lopez!" he says, pointing at the screen. 

"Look at the bills, Lucifer," Ella answers him, pointing at the screen as well. 

He shakes his head. "Come on, you can't base your arguments on their biased monetary valuation! This is my field of expertise, dear - I know what I'm saying."

With these words, he pulls the screen towards him. 

Chloe walks around the table and looks over his shoulder at the black and white video - which is regularly paused by their impatient and immature fingering. 

Two kids.

"What are we looking at?" she asks them, her chest pretty much pressed against her partner's back. 

She smiles as his finger freezes over the keyboard.

"Our dear Miss Lopez deluding herself, obviously." 

Chloe sighs.

"I was talking about the video, Lucifer."

"So was I, Detective." 

"This is the last footage from the security cameras outside the Youth Center," Ella explains to her. 

"I thought they were all out?" Chloe wonders.

"Not all of them, no. Well... yeah, but the one in the garage was still working the day before the murder. Not really helpful for our investigation, but—"

"But you're going to lose the bet," Lucifer finishes. 

"What 'bet'?" Chloe asks then, definitely pressed against him to reach the keyboard.

The explanation gets lost in Lucifer's sudden silence. She breathes in, causing a slight rubbing against the back of his suit jacket. He exhales, all tensed muscles until the next breath. His back is as perfect as the rest; nothing that really surprises Chloe. Suits could enhance men, not pretend perfection. 

She likes to feel him react to her closeness. 

It's also intimidating.

Especially when her imagination goes beyond this suit, further beyond.

She clears her throat to dislodge these inappropriate thoughts, then pulls the computer towards her - and him -, using the mouse to read the video from the start.

The garage. 

That's where the victim arrived the next day. They may discover some interesting things there. She watches the teenagers' imprecise silhouettes, crowded in a corner, not far from the camera; staff members parking their cars, leaving, others sitting on the hood.

Ella goes to the mat, encouraged by Lucifer's prolonged silence. "Dude… that's cocaine. I'll bet my life on it!" 

"Don't be so dramatic; ten bucks will be plenty enough," Lucifer says very seriously. "For this modest sum, I assure you it's speed." 

"But he gave him several hundred bucks! Cocaine!" 

Lucifer snorts, waving his hand to dismiss her argument. "Come now, those kids can't afford that much, for obvious reasons. And let me remind you that I've far better sight than yours - these are five bucks, no more! Speed, Miss Lopez."

"Francis."

They both stare at Chloe.

"This psychoactive drug sounds new to me, Detective. Good stuff, I hope?"

She shakes her head, not taking her eyes off the screen. "It's not stuff, it's someone. Francis, it's the boy who was hanging around the crime scene yesterday." 

It's him, for sure; the same black oversized sweater on his skinny chest, hair down to his shoulders. He's back to the camera, but his quick gestures look like this kid. In a hurry to leave, not to get caught. If he ever was, he wouldn't have had two days to gather his things and leave the place; classic and frequent sentence for drug use, reduced to immediate expulsion and a call to the police if he'd deal some. He looks more like a junky than some cautious drug dealer, anyway. 

If he has withdrawal symptoms, everyone in the center should have noticed. Unfortunately, they had had to stop regular blood tests for past junkies for a year now - not enough money. They should have noticed this, though. It's so obvious. 

She should have noticed, yesterday. 

But she'd only focused on Lucifer and Dan's crappy behavior. 

"It looks like 'hanging around' is his thing," Lucifer says. "And speed."

Ella sighs deeply and moves the mouse towards the pause button, stopped by Chloe shortly after; "Wait." 

They watch the tandem bargaining a few bags of speed - or cocaine - between two cars, then a third person's shadow appears on the concrete floor, just to their left. The dealer, cautiously hooded, shoves Francis and disappears into the blind spot. Penelope Sanchez appears from the left side, shouting at Francis for the next five minutes. 

"Well... Wouldn't that be our victim?" Lucifer sounds as surprised as she is right now. 

"She went to the center the day before she was murdered…." 

Chloe advances the video to ten minutes later, accelerating the altercation until Francis' departure, more agitated than before; Penelope stays between the cars for a moment before disappearing as well. 

"Nobody saw her that day," Chloe says, pausing the video. "No one, if not him. She probably went home after that."

Ella sits up on her stool. "She looked pissed."

"Probably because he chose speed and not cocaine. Rich people have a trained eye for drugs." Saying this, Lucifer gives a victorious smile to her. 

"The rules of the center are very strict regarding drug use," Chloe continues, walking away from Lucifer and Ella. 

Folding her arms once again, her fingers mechanically play a few notes going with her thoughts. "Perhaps Penelope threatened to denounce him? And he panicked?"

As soon as she says it aloud, her theory sounds all the more improbable. It makes sense, but...

The murder. 

The murder wasn't impulsive, nothing like murderous reaction from a teenager having withdrawal symptoms, who looks ready to flee at the slightest insistent gaze towards him. 

Not to mention how much time has passed between their argument and the murder. 

Francis is impulsive, unpredictable. 

It doesn't fit. 

"No, the murder is too precise in its execution. Can't be Francis…" she sighs.

"If I may, Detective…" Lucifer speaks. "This young man doesn't seem to be particularly audacious, given the location of this 'illegal' exchange. I don't see him risking additional bruises in East Los for something as hardly exhilarating as speed." 

"So, your point?"

"So; why was he there in the first place? Near the crime scene, moreover?"

Good question. 

She didn't even think to ask him yesterday morning. 

Chloe chews on her bottom lip, her fingers tensing on her sleeves. She has let herself be led by her emotions, her worries spiraling in her mind; far, so far away from what she should really care about. 

Whether she looks like Persephone or not, Chloe is a cop, dammit.

As she has just started a serious relationship with Lucifer, her partner, she can't afford to neglect her work. She hadn't done it with Dan, neither when she'd been with Marcus, as short as it has been. 

A shiver raises along her spine.

Not the best comparison to speak in her favor, in favor of her professional instinct. 

She's better than that. 

She wants to be better than that. 

"You're right," she says, nodding. "We should ask him."

"Chloe?" 

She turns around, Dan waving at her, his other hand on the handle. He opens his mouth, his gaze going from his ex-wife to the Devil, sitting a bit further in the lab. 

His fingers tense around the handle. 

"What's up, Dan?" Ella greets him, both hands on her desk. 

"One of the kids hasn't showed up yet. Wanna start with the next one instead?" he asks Chloe, tensing up in seconds. 

"Who hasn't?"

"Francis Rivera." 

"Isn't that 'coke-mical', Detective?" her partner sounds pleased about this, perfectly relaxed near Ella, to whom he shows his open palm with an arched eyebrow. 

She shakes her head. " 'Not proving anything, buddy." 

Lucifer sighs loudly as he lowers his hand, his forehead creased. He then turns to his partner. "Well, I suppose we'll have to find this 'speedy' sheep and bring him to you, then. The truth will stare you in the face, dear. I won't lose the bet, so help me Father!"

Dan lets out a mocking exclamation, to which Lucifer answers with a smile as polite as annoying. "Not that most people can stare it straight in the eye." 

Not that some 'douche' can. 

He's gonna say it. 

Chloe warns him not to with a glare, taking a deep breath. " _ Okay! _ W-we're gonna... Lucifer?" 

"Detective?" 

She's doing her best not to smile, really. With a twitching mouth, she tilts her head towards the door. "Let's go." 

"I live to assist you," he says reverently.

He hasn't joined her at the door yet that Ella mouths her two favorite words for the second time - "Super cute!" 

And again, these aren't the ones coming to mind. 

'Super Lucifer', instead. 

It's so 'Lucifer'. And so far from what she's imagined after that night. But what has she imagined? The Devil standing at attention, ready to assist her day and night? 

She hasn't changed for him, because of him - why should he?

Chloe watches him, listens distractedly to his comments in the tone of normality, of their usual partnership.

She was hoping for something better, but... wasn't that just it; a simple return to normal? Isn't this the best way to enjoy their time together? Like they would have acted, with or without these new mythological-angelic restrictions? 

**_"Just... live for today?"_ **

Or is that the worst way? 

She could be Persephone, a miracle, the Queen; she's still Chloe Decker, eager for something 'better'. Her 'best'.

She doesn’t want one, six or seven pips; she wants the whole damn fruit basket.

**Tbc**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment/kudo if you liked it/want to.  
> If you want to read snippets from next chapters before their publication, you can join me in Twitter & Tumblr. 
> 
> #StaySafe


	11. Pockets and orifices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to talk about fruit seeds... time on Earth... well, time to talk!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been tempted to publish sooner (once I finished it last night, at 1AM), but I didn't want to let this chap full of mistakes and grammatical nonsense. It's for the best (so many faults erased this morning!). 
> 
> Anyway, As promised - a longer chapter (additional explanations about Lucifer's situation). 'Hope you'll like it ;)
> 
> (no music for once)

**POCKETS AND ORIFICES**

11

* * *

  
  


Chloe waits until they have spent the standard half hour of awkward silence, waiting for their main suspect to show up, before she has a try. 

It's not because she's afraid to broach the-  _ these _ issues that bother her. 

Of course not. 

She doesn't want to make the same mistake twice, that's all. 

Even though her 2.0 emotions are screaming at her that they must broach every last unsaid thing within the hour, her mind - fortunately more professional than she has been in the past few days - is urging her to act so; like a professional. 

She did her job, with her partner.

Now that they know where to look for Francis, now that they are patiently waiting for him to look for other drugs in this square; she can let her emotions speak. Speaking isn't forbidden, it wasn't the first time she spoke with Lucifer about 'sensitive' subjects in her car. 

This is normal stuff.

She shoots a sideways glance towards him. 

It's not that 'awkwardly quiet', not when Lucifer is able to hold a conversation on his own, fully satisfied with a few 'mmh', 'yes', 'no' and any other onomatopoeia that has passed her lips from the precinct to the square whose greenery burns under L.A.'s sun. He only turned quiet recently, whistling some tunes she doesn't recognize. 

She wonders whether it's from a lack of earthly musical culture or because this melody is beyond her reach, beyond any other humans' reach. 

Either way, these are beautiful sounds, even whistled distractedly. 

She listens for the next five minutes, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel just as distractedly, before she speaks, "I-" 

He turns to her, whistling one last note in which resounds a quizzical tune, also shown by his arched eyebrow. 

"I've been thinking about all this and... there are a few things that bother me."

"Of course. They bother me just as much."

Chloe's eyebrows rise. "Really?" 

She looks longer at him, notices the fine wrinkles on his forehead. That and his lack of enthusiasm since they have parked the car in the quietest corner, where the local drug dealers wouldn't be alerted by their presence. 

Of course.

Of course he cares as much about this story as she does. 

It's not like he pretended otherwise, yesterday like any other day. Chloe is just... It is hard to think of Lucifer's feelings as hers most of the time. The difference she notices, that she deeply feels between them - the species, longevity and their way of thinking, of living -; it goes on decreasing as their interactions go, since the day when everything became clearer for her. More difficult too. 

The difference goes on decreasing, but never fast enough for her. 

And with what she has just learned about herself, about him, them... it doesn't really help to restrain the divergence of perception that she can't help but imagine, as he can't help but show it, with everything he says or does.

The difference might still be there when it'll be time for him to—

She squeezes the steering wheel so she won’t shake. 

Lucifer nods and opens his window halfway. Only one black curl answers to the call of the breeze and moves away from the Devil's perfect haircut, brushing those slight quizzical, caring wrinkles. 

"Yes," he says. "Miss Lopez never hid her… shady past from us. How could she mistake speed with cocaine? Especially since she took some in my club for everyone's salvation - additionally, the best cocaine of L.A! I can't explain it myself." 

Chloe gapes at him. She blinks several times. "What?" 

"These drugs might well look the same and thus mislead the best of us, but there was rose-coloured powder in this small packet; this detail can't be put aside only because you, humans, can't see through black and white like I do. We also know that the centre was lacking monetary stability these days - if Francis is the greedy type, and junkies are by definition, he must have chosen speed to avoid a particularly unpleasant starvation. Better that than going through the bins, right?" 

For a second, Chloe wonders how he can so precisely know the wanted and unwanted effects of speed... and how he can see colours where she can't. 

She hasn't learned so much from her own school books. 

Then she remembers his long experience in this field, as long as a line of speed. She remembers that he's an angel before being an expert in narcotics during his spare time.

"That's not...." She stares at him. "That’s what's bothering you? Really?" 

He stares back at her. "Not you?"

"No!" she exclaims, her tone startling them both. 

She hasn't meant to answer him like this. She has simply let her emotions come in the spotlight, as the predictable annoyance for his indifference. Her mind could have dealt with it, and she could rationalize that it was his 'Luciferness', but... that difference is mostly lightened now. 

So what? 

He told her what looked important to him last night and the rest doesn't matter, is that it? 

Because these are just _ human _ concerns? 

His absence this morning, at the precinct… and now this. It's too 'normal' stuff to be real normality. It's irritating, at the very least. 

And, even though she considers herself a reasonable person, Chloe feels like she deserves more than that; more than getting back to normal, with a partner and lover whose 'Lucifer-centric' by definition . 

_ Lover.  _

A flush creeps up her face with just a word. She shakes her head, glancing at Lucifer again. 

He looks surprised by her reaction. 

Just Lucifer-centric then. Just staying true to himself. 

"Sorry, I...." she sighs, shuts her eyes for a second. 

She shakes her head, again; staring at the other part of the square through her window. 

"Isn't it supposed to be my line?" he observes. 

She turns back to him, meets his gaze - debauch and repentance from one eye to the other, same intensity from his ancient difference. It's also tangible in the way he looks at people, the way he looks at her. 

Would he look at her differently over time, time spent too far away from her to even situate or define it with metaphorical fruit seeds? 

He smiles at her. "Given your reaction, I'd bet I'll have to make it up for you soon. Am I wrong?" He then adds, half-shrugging while his charming smile turns into sheepish expression - thus preventing her to add this smiling detail to her long list of differences between them; "That being said, I won't be against further explanations about what I did exactly wrong. My sixth sense stops at first impressions, I'm afraid."

"Angels have sixth sense?"

"As for as I'm concerned, it's more like a lingering sense of déjà vu," he answers to her, his smile almost gone. 

Chloe's forehead furrows. Before her expression, he explains with his soft voice, whispered words in reply to her last burning, human irritation; "I'm used to disappointing others' expectations." 

She chews on her bottom lip, then she draws in a long breath to appease the sudden contraction in her belly. "Lucifer, that's not...." 

She looks away, taking another long breath. Her abdominal muscles are determined to feel guilt for her. With a long sigh, she turns her guilty grimace into a smile, partial curve of awkwardness on her right cheek.

"That's not what I heard." 

Lucifer looks puzzled now. 

"All these…" Chloe hesitates over the words, making her choice - awkward and uncomfortable - seconds later; "...people who asked you a favor always looked satisfied. At least the ones I met and-" She clears her throat and squeezes her thighs, which are determined to 'imagine' for her, "... questioned." 

_ "He did this thing...." _

_ "The best night of my life!" _

Her throat would never be 'cleared' enough. 

Lucifer chuckles, his self-deprecating speech quickly forgotten for the memory of his long,  _ very _ long list of conquests. "Those were the Devil's days, indeed!" 

Those 'were' the days? So he didn't... they no longer are? 

She thought otherwise yesterday. She still thinks so today, just a little bit. It's good to hear it from his mouth, even indirectly, to hear this change in the supposed normality they have barely gotten back. For them both, with each other. 

"These nonetheless scrupulously 'fulfilled' favors have everything to do with unconfessed desires," he continues more seriously. "They had nothing to do with you, Chloe, with your expectations. Or past ones." 

"Past ones?" she repeats. 

He nods. "I doubt you'll ever match my Father's disappointment in me." He then tilts his head to the side, old sadness clouding his smile. "Well, we disappointed each other so… even-stevens." 

"Lucifer, I'm not d—" 

Chloe stops. She is, but.... 

"That's not... I just—" 

"Just?" he encourages her.

She sighs. "I just thought that today would go... differently." 

"So did I. Between this stakeout and the paperwork of the last days, I can't tell which one wins the professional idleness trophy here," he sighs in return. "It sounds all the more deplorable with these contradictory words in the same sentence!" 

Now he's teasing her for want of anything better to reply. Typical 'Luciferness'. Chloe rolls her eyes, trapped between laughs and smiles. "We're getting some air here, at least." 

"That and a stunning view," he adds, gazing at a juggler in the middle of the lawn who's not really talented.

"Francis is as much fond of juggling as he is with speed, who knows? That or cocaine," she says shortly afterwards, just as teasing. 

Lucifer looks back at her, utterly scandalized.

"Not you, Chloe! Anyone else but you can mistake these drugs, anyone! Even if you've never taken some, you must have seen many since the unforgettable raising of your breast from a hot tub, since its honorable evolution to a 34b - I really should thank your offspring for this post-pregnancy attractive feature, by the way. Anyway, you have no excuse for making such a mistake!" 

Chloe lets pass a few seconds of silence before repeating; "34b?"

His eyes go from her surprised expression to her breasts, red dunes whose size is hidden under her black blazer. She restrains herself from crossing her arms when she starts to feel uncomfortable under Lucifer's insistent gaze. 

"I'm never wrong when it comes to cup size, but... I won't argue if you'd oblige me to check," he whispers, his eyes rising from her breasts to the line of her neck; up to her eyes. 

He smiles at her. "It's hot as Hell in there, perfect weather for checking games, isn't it?"

Might be.

Her breaths quicken with his words, which are true - it's hot as Hell; quite normal in L.A., moreover in a car parked under a star almost at its zenith -, she only slowly exhales once she notices the amused gleam in his eyes. A loud exhalation peppered with laughs and a tap on his shoulder. 

He exaggeratedly winces in pain as he rubs the limb wounded by such a gentle touch, hiding thus another kind of discomfort. 

"It's starting to be a habit!" he pouts.

"As yours to ask me for forgiveness every five minutes," she replies. 

He lowers his hand, his arm instantly healed from any faked pain. "Should I?" 

She shakes her head. 

"Not really. No," she repeats more firmly, more convinced. 

She turns, smiles at him.

"We're two in this. You can't always be the only one responsible for what's wrong... for what doesn't feel right, not the way I'd like it to." 

"Was that a clue?" 

Her smile widens. She looks down, watching his hand resting now on his thigh - just like the other night. She takes it, squeezes it gently. Just like the other night. Lucifer's thumb starts a slow drawing on her skin, from the base of her index finger to her wrist. 

It feels hot. 

She might feel the same. 

"I... I missed you, this morning." 

"I wasn't that far, was I?"

"No, this morning. At my place. On the... on the couch." 

"Oh." 

He can't hide his surprise, even though she can see another feeling in his gaze. His gaze, it's a lost one. Lost everywhere else but in hers, it seems. It gets lost from the dashboard to the steering wheel, then to the windshield, to their hands on his thigh. 

"I wasn't..." he speaks again, hesitant, "-that far?" 

"I know. I know, it's stupid." 

"I wouldn't say that." His puzzled expression hasn't moved an inch from his features. 

"Incomprehensible?" Chloe proposes. 

Lucifer nods. 

'I know," she repeats for the third time, looking straight ahead. "And I can't even blame my uncontrollable emotions now…" she sighs afterwards, resting her head on the back of her seat. "They're just...  _ mine. _ Chloe's emotional headache."

"If it makes you feel any better, my lack of understanding remains quite stable either way." 

She titters, gazes at him; he, quite the stability of puzzlement about her mystery to solve. "I thought... I'm aware that we don't have much time together here until your next... 'requisition' down there. I don't know how much time we have left and that's why I seek your company as often as possible; I guess? Is it gonna be tomorrow? Two days from now? Two weeks?" 

She shrugs, squeezes his hand tighter. She could tremble from that, rather than from fear. 

"No." 

She has avoided his gaze, all the time her lips have been pronouncing these words, these incomprehensible fears, independent of uncontrollable emotions - only human ones -; she only comes back to his eyes when she hears his voice. Simple, understandable. 

Many things can be felt through his gaze; she has felt his immortality, his sovereign domination over hundreds of thousands of subjects - honestly, she won't dare to imagine more than that, she'd probably never ask him. She has felt his power; of angel, of Devil. 

She's feeling something special, something different. Something that only arises with her, whenever their gaze meets, only theirs. She had seen him charm many women, men too; he had never looked at them the way he's looking at her, as if she's precious, fragile, strong, extraordinary... all that at the same time. 

This is too much, too much for a look, for a person like her. 

Ordinary. 

Her miraculous conception has a lingering sense of 'ordinary' next to an angel. Next to the Devil. 

"No?" she repeats, a trembling note of hope and fear. 

No? 

'No' for which period; days, weeks? Less than that, maybe?

Why 'no'? 

He shakes his head, his eyes gleaming with something else, darker - a single gleam for a single meaning, something 'too much', too much for the hope that his 'no' has aroused in her. Chloe doesn't let go of her hand, she doesn't look down. 

The truth is staring her in the face.

That's what he told Ella. 

"Months. It's gonna be months from now." 

She nods at that, several times; lips closed, tightly closed on this stream of emotions. Her deep exhalation stays in their way, she almost bites her lower lip to contain this explosion of feelings within her. 

This isn't enough. 

They deserve more. 

They deserve better.

God is an Asshole, psycho Jerk drunk with pow—

She exhales; slowly, noisy expulsion of emotional surplus. Although nothing really is exaggerated for a man like him, the Devil, an extraordinary being... for so many reasons. "H-How many months exactly?" 

"Four."

_ Holy shit. _

That's exaggeratedly short. 

**-xXx-**

Another half hour passes without them exchanging anything but worried glances. It's rather a one-way exchange, especially Lucifer's. She only has eyes for the square, for their still invisible suspect; pictured, but never 'seen'. She can feel, predict Lucifer's each new glance from how his collar rubs against the worn fabric of the passenger seat. 

A rubbing, a glance, another one and he looks at something else through the window, or in the same direction as her, an invisible spot in the middle of the square. 

That... that silence can be called 'awkward'. 

She's in no hurry to break it. 

She is in no hurry to do anything; she is and she is not. 

Four months, it's—

It's so short!

Why is it so short? 

Chloe takes a deep breath, her fingers playing a tune that even the Devil, fervent music-lover before Eternity, wouldn't dare to interrupt. He hasn't even dared to touch her since she has moved her hand away from his, a touch too short, for even less time together.

This tune isn't for him anyway; it sounds wrong. 

She doesn't want to hear that, not something this 'short'. 

Why…  _ why?! _

Was God punishing Lucifer for finding out an unexpected, dangerous way to deflect his eternal duties in Hell? Adding an extra punishment to the list doesn't make much difference for him… That's what he'd answer if she'd ever ask him. A matter of perception, right?

Everything that His Father ever did is likely to be a divine pain in the ass for His children, never for good reasons, or sensible ones. Which is it, this time? Or is it really for punishing him, in intent to show them that there are always consequences to irrational desire? 

But it's not, it's not just desire. It's  _ more!  _

Love 2.0.

'Deckerstar' love, as Ella would shout at the top of her voice. 

To punish her, then? What for? 

If she thinks about it, a short time of reflection, Chloe can find many valuable reasons to make her pay for her past mistakes. Lack of faith in His Son, perhaps? Many say that a lack of faith, of virtue, not believing despite all opposition… It's told that 'lack of actions' is deserving divine punishment. 

Or maybe it's because she did take action? In the worst possible way. An 'almost' action. 

_ "But just remember what you're doing… is the best thing for everyone on Earth. Including Lucifer." _

She had wanted, for a moment - no, for weeks…  _ months _ -, to send him back down there. 

Forever. 

A few months of doubts for which she's getting punished now. 

It makes sense. 

A month of evangelical nonsense for just four months of normality with Lucifer. 

This is her fault, it's—

"Say something, Chloe," Lucifer almost begs her, disturbing her train of thoughts. "Or this douche will have to juggle with his bloody limbs!"

She stares at him without a word, then follows his gaze. The juggler has indeed no talent for this, not as much as his ad claims so, given how many times he hasn't caught the clubs since she looks at him.

Her gaze hasn't changed from one to the other, puzzled from the square to Lucifer's annoyed expression who sighs noisily. "I'm doing my best to 'take it easy', as Linda would say, but…."

He sighs again, his eyes gleam with comical animosity for the pitiful juggler. Chloe purses her lips; she's in no mood to smile, but the muscles of her face don't care, so it seems.

"If we don't talk right now, this 'juggler' is about to experience rectal throw in his—"

"We must stay discreet," she admonishes him. "Francis hasn't shown up yet." 

"Being 'discreet' goes against the Devil's nature, Detective," he says. 

He doesn't rush out of the car, though; his animosity appeased by their revived conversation. Professional and neutral, but nonetheless revived. For a second, Chloe is tempted to go back to her thoughts of guilt and more or less plausible theories about the how and the why. 

But perception…. 

Her perception is probably not enough to understand. 

They wouldn't be too many to perceive the full implication of such a short time together, such a long time separated. 

Eight months without him. 

That's two months more. 

Two; they're two - a couple, two people, two parts of one strong feeling, which goes beyond Earth boundaries, their bodily boundaries as well. 

She can't think clearly on this, not by herself, not with her restless running thoughts. 

She can't think about this on her own. 

Not like last time. 

_ "... after I saw you, saw your face... I had to get away to process things, you know?" _

She definitely can't. 

"It's not much." 

He lifts an eyebrow. "What about two clubs, then? Hardly manageable, but not impossible! Although I doubt his arse is as much trained as mine...."

Chloe's eyes widen while she starts to imagine— 

No. 

No, no... no. 

_ No.  _

She blinks, opens the window completely; it might help her cheeks, two scarlet roses on white as she just got her naiveté disturbed - well no-... her 'limited', very human practice. 

_ Hell. Four months, unfair decision; let's go.  _

"I was talking about... your time left here," she mumbles without looking at him, certain to blush like a ripe fruit - damn metaphors! - if she ever does. 

He scoffs at that, "I'm not in some final phase."

"Just living on borrowed time, then?" 

"More like being on parole; which is a bloody twist of fate for the Hell's Geoler," he says, his tone more bitter than previously. 

For the first being who asked for freedom, who struggled for keeping it. 

God has the Devil on a leash. 

She feels nauseous just by imagining, perceiving it.

She starts to understand why their father-and-son relationship is so catastrophic; it's difficult not to perceive God's actions as compulsive abuse. 

"Being on parole is conditional freedom, constant freedom if you follow the rules," she says, sighing afterwards. "You said... you told me you nearly died.  _ Died! _ How— How would going back there longer than you stay here ever prevent you from this again?! I mean—!" 

She shakes her head, finally turning to him. "You barely survived six months. I barely survived six months..." she whispers. "Don't you need more? Can't you get more?" 

Not even waiting for his answer, she shakes her head once more. "That's not fair." 

"That's my Father's nature, I'm afraid," he whispers back. 

Chloe closes her eyes, her fingers clutching the wheel as hard as her heartbeats, quick and confused orchestra in her chest moving up to her temples. The leather of her seat, like the hand pressing on that other round leather, can't absorb these tremors that pass through her half-open lips, down her throat, into her belly and tense limbs. Even when she has exhaled them, these tremors keep tormenting her; in her hands, her arms - pressuring leather, the divine pressuring her. 

So it's a 'no' again. 

No possible 'more'. They wouldn't have any kind of 'more'. 

Doing the Devil a favor? When Hell will freeze over.... 

She opens her eyes, two narrow slits over the quiet afternoon that wouldn't slow down its course to please Chloe and her needs for 'more'. Over Lucifer, too; quiet Devil anxiously watching for her reactions, as quiet as such a being could be. 

This might be a favor, him being here.

He wasn't supposed to come back to Earth. 

Perhaps God sees it that way; not as a punishment or a lesson, but as a favour to His Son, ready to sacrifice their true, burgeoning love for his duty, the one he had so long ignored. Lucifer said that his Father wasn't pleased by the situation, but....

Was He? Unpleased?

"As to whether my time here on Earth would be enough or not to keep me in good shape for the eight months to come..." Lucifer continues, Chloe still not speaking through her reflection, "we won't know until then. I told you, our 'emotionally literal' union is the first-of-its-kind. If not, my Father wouldn't have been that eager to make a deal with the Devil." 

Deal. 

No deal today but they did make one, it had been possible - two weeks before now.

"But He could have just put a stop to these 'side effects' instead of making a deal, couldn't He? That's how it's supposed to work when you're-...  _ God _ ," she thinks aloud, feeling relieved that He didn't, afraid that He might do it, unintentionally inspired by her last words.

He can see right through her, can't He? 

Can He? 

Lucifer doesn't look more comfortable with this possibility; how he's staring at her, tense, his eyes slightly widened with surprise, how his mouth twitches - like she's just punched him.

"I don't- What I'm saying is th—" Chloe stammers, as red as the top he has praised for how it shows off her breast. "He's God; I just can't picture Him making deals with you or anyone else…." 

"Which He didn't, not personally." 

Passed her stammering, Lucifer's smile loses its previous tension. "And, again, our situation is unprecedented. Unprecedented situations lead to unprecedented solutions. These are unsurprisingly disadvantageous for us, but there are nevertheless some advantages not to die in a Kingdom of Fire and Blood. Of 'Ashes and Deceit', for the official version. I won't allow anyone, not even human perceptions, to roast me or soil my suits." 

Keeping quiet because she just can't speak properly, not since they started this conversation - a neutral and professional start that begins to miss her -, Chloe gulps before making another try. Almost perfect from one word to the very last one. "You... You didn't talk with your Father? Make a deal with Him?" 

"I-... not exactly." 

She keeps her anger under control with a deep breath; a deep, controlled tremor for this new information matching with her previous assumptions. It's a matter of perception with Lucifer, again and again. Even more so with this 'unprecedented' situation. 

Chloe gets fed up. "What  _ exactly _ happened?"

"What I've been telling you since day one. Michael took my place, as Father ordered him to, and we made a deal, He and I. It's simple as that," he adds with a shrug.

"It doesn't sound simple!" 

She throws her hands in the air, away from the steering wheel kneaked with tension, fear, and conflicting versions. 

"There's no deal if the other party wasn't even there," she protests, arms crossed over her chest, for completely different reasons. 

"There is, because Gabriel was there."

"Gabriel? You said that Michael took your place." 

"He did," Lucifer confirms. "Gabriel only came to deliver Father's will about me, about us; as he has always done since your creation. God never comes in person, Detective." 

Too bad. 

For now, and probably for a long time, Chloe hesitates between punching Him in the face and embracing Him tightly; the first one for playing with her nerves and His son's, the last one for bringing him back to her when she no longer expected anything. 

Gabriel, huh?

She read some things about him, about many angels, archangels or cherubs and other kinds of heavenly servants; she did read things, to nauseating perception. An archangel is not an angel and Lucifer isn't one, neither is he a monster. 

He is a fallen archangel.

And Gabriel would have become one for announcing Christ's arrival on Earth, which she now knows as not being the entire truth. 

A messenger, then. 

She is intrigued by Lucifer's words. He said 'will' this time. God's will; which is known to be absolute, no deals with His will. 

"Now you're saying that it was His 'will', not a deal? 

"He had no wish to see me die or Hell fall apart because of me, here's where His will stopped," Lucifer says. "Michael has been quite clear about this!" 

"And about His messenger, hm?" Chloe insists, eager for clarification on this detail. "What did he tell you?"

A sensitive subject, God's words; which the Devil is not inclined to share in detail, given how he's playing with the opening switch of the window, windy way-out or suffocating detail to share with her. As much annoyed by his behavior as his silence, Chloe extends her hand to stop his own. "Lucifer...." 

His fingers freeze around the switch, open for her touch, for warm breezes eager to disturb his hair even more. 

He exhales, additional air going outside the car.

"Gabriel suggested that He recognised my 'sacrifice'. Yet, He didn't wish to see me perform my duties despite my poor state of health. He was mostly worried about all those demons who would lose their King, that goes without saying - all those souls who would lose a… 'neutral' executioner; a rare quality among these lecherous creatures, as you can imagine. Pain is just a game for them! On top of that, there's this 'empty throne' issue…." 

"Empty throne, you say?"

Lucifer nods. "Well, yes. Who would want or even be able to sit on mine if I'd die? None of my siblings are willing to fall from grace as I did. A short replacement is far less demanding for them than a full-time reign... eternal full-time." 

There he goes again, talking about his death as if it was no big deal.

As if it wouldn't upset anyone. 

"Was it His idea? The… part-time reign over Hell?"

"We can say that," he fudges, avoiding her gaze. 

"Lucifer—"

"It was mine," he tells her once she said his name. 

She stares at him, their places switched. She who wants him to turn towards her, to give her more than a tense profile, from which a disturbing sensation emerges. The sensation that what would follow wouldn't please either of them. And him... him, unable to answer her, unable to give one with a glance. These are his hands, if not a leather steering wheel, that squeeze his thighs, which slightly tremble on his pants fabric. It's this fabric, the one of his seat that can't absorb it.

Chloe can't dislodge this knot in her throat. "Lucifer?" 

He draws in a long breath, another tremor hidden between his closed lips, down his throat and along his tense limbs. He can't totally hide it, but he nevertheless hides it better than she did herself. The Devil pretending not to know while a Miracle begs for Heaven's mercy. For some logical explanation, at least. 

"I'm the one to blame for this, for this literal application of my feelings. My desires, I should say." 

His voice is soft, cautious, much less prone to his usual exaggerated intonation. Neutral statement; this sounds so strange in his mouth. 

So strange to hear it again.

_ "Now the demons know I've no intention of returning, they... they'll continue to defy me." _

She doesn't want to hear this, not again. 

But she does. 

She can't put an end to such a short time with him, can she?

_ "I see, so what... what do you saying?" _

She listens. 

Religiously, in a way. 

"My feelings have affected them too; my deepest desire…. Back then, I needed them, the demons, every one of them, to obey me unquestioningly and—" Lucifer sighs, weary. Desperate. "They tried to replace me with Charlie and-... I wanted them to only think of me, no one else but me, as their rightful King. Forever. I wanted to keep everyone safe; you, him, Beatrice…. You were there, you saw me." 

She nods.

"That night, I-I haven't just created a strong link from our mutual feelings, I... I linked my power, this strong will of unchallenged domination to the very essence of Hell which is, since the Beginning of Times, a vessel for human, demonic and celestial feelings. Hell changed to suit itself to my guilt after my Fall and use it as fair punishment... as it was virgin of life and deadly dangerous when I took others' punishment into my own hands." 

She frowns, yet remains silent, listening attentively to his confession. His perception.

"When I left for L.A., it remained dormant; at its most basic functions. At least until that bloody proclamation that night in the mayan temple," he continues. "Now Hell will only recognise me as Its Ruler; the demons felt it, as did God." 

She felt it too. She's feeling it right now, hearing it, seeing on his face, every inch of it. 

He's the Devil, Hades, the— 

"I'm the King. Forever, until my glorious death. I've been close to death… It was a matter of hellish days, according to Gabriel. I would be dead if I haven't come back to you for a few months. I didn't want to at first, but... not listening to my desires isn't my nature, is it?" he tried to joke around.

Wasted try. 

If he couldn't even joke around, Chloe could permit herself to react - a tiny, inconsequential reaction. "No more than not making deals to get what you want." 

A corner of his mouth lifts. 

Better. 

"It was the only way. Hell can't be left unguarded, you already know that, especially since I literally put my desire of sovereignty into it. If I'm gone for too long, forever... we'd risk far worse than hundreds of dead bodies possessed by demons looking for a king. So…." He shrugs. "My Father accepted the deal willingly, better than Michael," he adds, mechanically rubbing his neck. "In return for which it was up to me to decide how long I'd need to be here, for how long Hell could 'live' without my command. I am the King, after all; I'm in the best position to understand my Kingdom's needs." 

He looks at her, finally. " 'My' needs. Sort of. I can hardly separate Hell notions from the Devil's." 

Another wasted try, wasted by Chloe's gaze, her stunned expression, uninterrupted sequence of incomprehension, new perceptions added to past facts. A descent into hell. 

No pun intended. 

"And, uh... Y-you only need... four months?!" 

What about her needs? 

Did she ever have any say in the matter? They could've talked about this the day he came back - chosen together. They could have done so much together instead of separated.

"It's-... that's all I can afford myself. I-I mean…" Lucifer stammers, upset. "Michael won't be able to contain them much longer than that, even with Lilith's assistance." 

She notices how proud his intonation has turned on that name, as much as it has been despising for his brother's; the violent kind of brothers, from what she heard so far. Well... given the Devil and Amenadiel's temper; the apple never falls far from the Tree. 

Like the metaphor of a myth, foreseen and to verify; such a pleonastic situation. 

"Why can't he? Four months, it's not that long for an archangel, is it?" Chloe insists. 

The first of the seven archangels, if she has a good memory. 

She always wondered if Lucifer had been the second, or if Michael was also replacing him on this podium of higher servitude to their Father.

Michael - the eternal substitute for the fallen son. Anybody would get mad. 

It helps to decrease the difference she feels between herself and Lucifer, it shows close similarity between human and celestial reactions. God created mankind in his own image; angels are only the first version. Mankind is their substitute. 

"Four 'earthly' months, Detective;" he replies, like it's obvious. "This is long enough to risk Hell's fall, trust me on this." 

Mouth opened, she's nevertheless mute after his answer. Right; time is different in Hell, as this place is different from Earth, from the Silver City. The first time she saw him again, he looked like he'd been through more than just a few months down there. She had suspected that his time hadn't been hers. 

Of course it hadn't.

Another difference to add in the long list separating them, separating their perceptions and needs. A difference replaced for the previously noticed similitude. Everything needs balance. The punishment of a dishonest life has to be slow, slower than life, than transitional death. 

The worst pain is the longest, the slowest. 

Of course it is.

The Devil's desires balance the weight of his duty; slow, painful, far from here.

She feels ridiculous to... to sulk for such a 'long' time without him. It would be so much 'longer' for him. 

It had been more.

"How long?" 

"How long 'what', Detective?" 

"How long was it for you in Hell, before you came back? How long is an earthly day down there?" she asked more precisely.

His expression changes as he starts to calculate; fast, almost nonchalant estimate of a mathematical operation for which Chloe is more overcome for its implications than for its mere execution. She can't think of anything else; this notion of unfairly lengthened time, for fair balance, a fair deal. 

Because this is about Hell.

About Lucifer.

His happiness.

"Around three years." 

Chloe's eyes go round, her lips eager to follow the expression of her feelings. Primal expression, that's for sure. The surprise, the shock - these are primal emotions, right?

"So you spent-… Six months here would be…" she stammers. 

"Almost six hundred years in Hell, yes," he nonchalantly reveals to her. Although he specifies; "give or take a few decades. It's difficult to reckon our time with yours, like everything else." 

Before her frozen, shocked expression, like the last half hour but for very different reasons - or more elaborated over 'relative' time - Lucifer smiles, a shy expression of his ancient experience of surviving alone. 

She could hardly do the same.

Six hundred years.

This is....

"Lucifer, that's—"

"Francis." 

"What?" she whispers. 

Lucifer points at the square, all his attention focused on a spot there. His other hand is already on the car door handle while Chloe's gaze follows the direction he's showing.

She immediately spots Francis under the shady trees, about a hundred yards away. He hurriedly passes the poorly talented juggler, stumbling from time to time whenever his feet get caught in the hems of his worn trousers. He is dirtier and more agitated than the last time she saw him; predictable result of growing guilt. 

Perhaps. She still needs to verify that. 

Professionalism is reminding her why she's here. 

Balance. 

Normal stuff for the all new supernatural side of her existence. Professionalism for emotions. 

Her hand also reaching for the handle, she nods at Lucifer. Car doors open in unison, Chloe being the first to hail the suspect who is halfway to the first available dealer. "Francis Rivera! L.A.P.D."

Those are perfect letters to start irrational fear. She unsurprisingly sees Francis freeze, how his eyes widen, and then she sees him turning back with unexpected agility, given his previous clumsiness to move. 

Guilt gives wings. 

"Stop!" Chloe summons him as she pursues him. 

Lucifer curses behind her. "Bloody Hell!" 

Chloe pushes and shoves several people, including a few drug dealers as panicked as Francis to be caught. One of them warns the others with a scream, revealing more illicit activity here than she has first thought. Francis was already crossing the street when she barely emerges from the sudden chaos, Lucifer on her heels. 

"Shit!" she curses as she sees him take a street crowded with people. 

She wouldn't catch him like that. 

"He's fast," her partner says. "It must be speed."

She looks around, spotting a deserted street nearby. She could cut through there.

"Come on!" she cries for Lucifer. 

She avoids the cars braking before her, ignores both the drivers and the Devil's curses behind her. Her boots stamp on plastic bags and dented cans, as fast as she can. 

Fast enough to bump into Francis at the next exit.

Additional screams and curses accompany their fall. "Detective!" 

Francis is a slim boy, yet Chloe hardly manages to keep him on the ground. He squirms under her full weight, until he releases one of his arms from her grasp and his elbow hits her chin. He hasn't hit her hard, but it's 'hard' enough to break her grasp. Francis pushes her aside and gets up. His flight looks all the more essential after hearing Lucifer's threatening growl a few steps away. 

Still on all fours on the ground, Chloe passes her hand under her chin before looking up, alerted by another noise, a plaintive grunt this time. At first, she thinks it's just another attempt of violence from their suspect. She thinks Lucifer as the target, who's the Devil, but a vulnerable partner with her nearby. In the panic, people are ready to do anything to protect themselves. And teenagers are fond of knives, easier to obtain with just a few bills. 

She felt Francis knife during their fight on the ground, right under his trouser belt. It's not a big blade, but watching Lucifer being stabbed for her lack of professionalism isn't what she's imagined this morning. She knows how to disarm a suspect, dammit! 

Like a bounty hunter knows how to make an entrance. 

Chloe stares at Maze, her spike heel in Francis' weak back as he keeps squirming on the ground, like a fish deprived of oxygen. Her leg is barely tensed to keep him there, relaxing demonstration of her demonic skills to dominate mankind, the vermin that would end in Hell sooner or later, where she was born. Her features are just as relaxed when she studies her friend's posture. Soon, a mocking smile appears. "Save this for Lucifer, Decker." 

Chloe frowns, becoming aware of her suggestive and humiliating posture in the street. She rolls her eyes and starts to get up, Lucifer's hand giving her helpful support under her arm. 

"Maze!" he greets her. "Glad to see that we can still count on you!" 

The demon squints, her expression changing as her eyes stop at Lucifer. "So it's a 'we' now?" 

Aware that Mazikeen said that for other reasons than this professional chase, Lucifer rolls his eyes in turn. "I'm gonna receive another lubricated delivery by the end of the week, am I? I doubt I'll be able to store it anywhere else but inside your old bedroom! Well... It's the best place to store your taxing frustration, I guess - won't you agree, Maze?"

"Lucifer," Chloe grunts, still trying to catch her breath while he doesn't seem as much bothered by this unplanned race. 

He's not even sweating. 

He then reproaches her for Chloe's state, his fingers touching the injured part, "why didn't you stop him before he hurt the Detective?"

Sighing, Chloe pushes his hand away. "I'm fine, Lucifer." 

"Why didn't  _ you? _ " Mazikeen retorts. "You were busy jerking off in a dark corner or what?!"

"I haven't done anything of the sort for a while," Lucifer says annoyingly.

Chloe's forehead furrows at that. 

The demon snorts, "Must explain why you can't even walk straight!" She disdainfully gaze at the Devil's crotch. 

"Okay, both of you - Stop!" Chloe cut them off with the same tone. 

She stands between him and Maze, looking for her handcuffs in her back pocket and giving each of them a warning glare; the same glare she usually keeps for Trixie when she starts to misbehave. She shouldn't be surprised to use it for these two supernatural kids. 

How could they have survived in a kingdom of 'Ashes and Deceit' for millennia? She'd truly like to know. If Michael is more serious than his brother, Hell must be easy to rule. 

"You'll have plenty of time for insulting each other once we get Francis back to the station. If he's still breathing... Maze, will you—?" she asks her as she sees the boy starting to suffocate under the demon's hold. 

Lifting her foot with a sigh and a glare towards Lucifer, Mazikeen releases the teenager who breathes in loudly; coughing and cursing back an endless tirade of nonsense. Chloe doesn't give him the time to sit up before she moves his hands behind his back, ignoring his new protests. 

She does the same with Lucifer's comments, leaning over her shoulder. "Right. Let's check his pockets and orifices!" 

  
  


**Tbc**

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NA :
> 
> Thanks for reading :)  
> I'm working on another prompt found on Tumblr (to relax a bit, this story isn't easy to write - especially for these parts of talking), so I dunno exactly when the next translated chap will be be update. It won't be long (not 8 months XD), don't worry!
> 
> As always, feel free to comment, leave a kudos and so on.  
> As always, snippets are regularly published on Twitter (@bebec_rebecca) and Tumblr (oncewritingalwayswriting). 
> 
> #StaySafe


	12. The Devil's unexpected blue balls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Took me some time to come to this new chap! (life, new unplanned story and so on…) But we're back, aren't we? With a big chap, as well!  
> I'd say we passed the introduction of the plot with this one.
> 
> The fun has just begun! (that and many other things) X)
> 
> I saw we reached 10k hits too! Thank you so much for that =3 
> 
> Back in business now!
> 
> Music - 'My Style' (Beginners)  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/1CtQeUBqOzqeLWV1iz3Ly1?si=zRXwzI-ETW-_K_DkdS9Gsw

**THE DEVIL'S UNEXPECTED BLUE BALLS**

12

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Six.

Six hundred.

Six hundred years.

Or more... six hundred years or more. 

So it could be more than six hundred and one, two, three or fifty years. 

It could be six hundred and sixty-six. 

Anyone would probably laugh at such supposition. But Chloe wouldn't. Of course she won't, she who… who's not anyone anymore. Who's not busy counting years for 'anyone'.

Six hundred and sixty-six, that would make sense. 

Devilish sense. Persephone's sense, too. 

Well yes... six seeds to eat, six hellish, earthly months which would soon become eight. 

Six....

Six hundred and si—

"Detective?"

"Hm? Sorry, what?" 

Chloe sits up as soon as these stammered words come out of her mouth, her chair legs scraping the floor for an inch while her partner clears his throat. Blinking several times, she follows his gaze, a purposive glare for their actual suspect who was staring at them, unable to decide which of the two partners he should be more scared of.

Judging by how he pushes his chair back to the wall as soon as Lucifer looks away, Lucifer is scarier. 

Chloe won't contradict him. 

He's always been.

"Isn't this the part where you imply the suspect's criminal implication and that I do the same, although more blatantly, the next second?"

Francis, who's kept pushing his chair back towards the wall, stops. His eyes widen, favoring Chloe rather than Lucifer. 

"What? 'Criminal implication'?" he repeats. "What do you mean? I've done nothing wrong! _You_ lunged at me like a freaking Amazon!" 

Lucifer joins his hands on the table. "And you deserve far worse treatment for making me lose ten dollars. I've never lost a human bet before...  _ never."  _ His tone shows deeper irritation than his glares.

"Wha... but—"

"We didn't bring you here to imply anything 'criminal', Francis," Chloe says.

"So I'm free to go?" 

Lucifer smiles, amused. "It depends on Maze outside." 

Francis frowns. "Maze? What's this, your sex doll?" 

Lucifer chuckles, his smile widening just as much as his threatening aura. "Oh, no no no. Nothing fake about Mazikeen - she's hot off Hell. Well, off the Mother of Demons; Lilith." 

Francis is obviously confused. Chloe, for her part, keeps the name in a corner of her mind - one of the few sensical corners left that would soon go crazy like the others before. 

Lilith. 

This... person who was helping Michael in Hell. 

The Mother of Demons. 

"Mazikeen is the person who helped me bring you here, Francis," Chloe explains. "She's pretty good at catching people for the L.A.P.D., as you noticed." 

The color drains out of Francis' face, under the Devil's mocking gaze and his queen's more critical one who continues; "Anyway, we still have some questions for you. If you could answer them...?" 

"Questions about what?" he asks, still suspicious. 

"Penelope Sanchez." Chloe also joins her hands over her file. "You said you knew her the other day. How did you meet?"

"At the center. I've already told you." 

Chloe insists. "And that's it? You never spoke to each other? When she was coming to the center or... anywhere else outside?" 

"Outside?" Francis repeats.

"The Detective is referring to an outside area, yes; a covered but undoubtedly discreet place," Lucifer says. 

Francis blinks at him, puzzled. He opens, closes his mouth. "I- No. She came from time to time, that's all. Like any other dickhead who gives us money so that we owe them afterwards," he adds bitterly. 

Lucifer approves his last words with a smile. "You're cleverer than I thought."

His tone tickles Chloe's curiosity as well. "That's what you think she was doing?" she asks him. "Looking for your favors?" 

"How the hell would I know?! I just knew her by sight!"

"Really?" 

Chloe looks at Lucifer who exclaims, "Clever but amnesic, are you? Hard drugs spare no one but me." 

Francis stares at him. His eyes flicker with a long series of theories that might explain her partner's weird speech, Chloe can tell. She can because hers had flickered the same many times. They've probably flickered during the last hour, from the square to this chair.

Now they're flickering with theories about Francis. 

She looks at a kid who's already prey to earthly demons before the real ones. Lies, drugs, precarity, mistrust....

He's too young. It's too soon.

"W-what, but—?"

"What my partner is blatantly implying is that your side of the story doesn't match with Mrs Harris'. But still… she might be wrong about what she saw between you two. Right?" she says, turning to Lucifer who nods.

"To err is human, Detective."

With these words, facing his amused expression, with their knowing glances; Chloe feels the same pressure inside her belly. Pressure from the time left to enjoy the sound of this voice, this face, this bond. 

That's not enough time, too short. 

The time passing after this 'Luciferian' speech, although mainly focused on mankind's imperfections, is shortened by Francis' answer - uncooperative and utterly distrustful towards them -, a short one as well. "I want my lawyer."

Sighing in response, Chloe voluntarily moves her chair back from another inch. "All right. We're gonna make the call. Lucifer?" 

She beckons him to follow her, taking her file with a last look at their suspect who shudders once the Devil's glare answers his before they walk through the door together. The daunting Devil is nevertheless chivalrous as he holds the aforesaid door for her and the one of the next room with the same knowing smile. 

Dan doesn't smile. 

He doesn't waste time to criticize Lucifer either, "That's a great way to get a kid's declaration, man! You’ve done good, really!"

"Daniel, Daniel... just because premature moves are your trademark doesn't mean I should move the same. In fact, I'd rather see myself as an 'exhilarating languor' for the Detective." 

Those two are definitely not ready to calm things down, are they? 

Chloe, professional as ever, takes the lead. "He's hiding something," she says, looking at Francis through the two-way mirror. 

With a last glare for each other, Lucifer joins her, hands in his pants pockets. Dan doesn't seem ready to stop commenting on their way of working, though - an addiction to any kind of aggression for the partnership he has before his very eyes. "Of course he is. We caught him buying hard drugs; he's facing heavy shit here. That and expulsion."

"It's a known risk for him, with what Penelope saw," Chloe says without turning around, frowning. "No, there's something else. Why else would he ask for his lawyer now? Why deny his connection to her? Everybody from the center knew they were talking to each other, often."

"He wants to avoid spending the rest of his life in prison, not expulsion," Lucifer reveals to them. 

She turns towards him. "What makes you say that?"

Lucifer lifts his shoulder in a half shrug. "I've seen that kind of look before, Detective. Many, many times."

"Where?" 

"In Hell." 

"Right…" Dan mutters scornfully. "I'm gonna call his lawyer."

"Prematurely moving, aren't you Detective Douche?" Lucifer answers back while Dan walks out of the room with quick steps where hostility and resentment can be heard even more clearly. 

As soon as the door slammed shut, Chloe elbows him. "What about 'good manners'?"

"Prematurely forgotten, I'm afraid," Lucifer replies, smirking at her.

She only succeeds in not returning his smile by focusing on Francis; still sitting, still rubbing the arm that Chloe had twisted in his back. "This kind of look is usual in Hell, really?"

"Really."

She studies Lucifer's expression with the same attention for details she does for Francis'. But the royal, divine aura that radiates from him isn't a detail; not for her, not anymore. 

Now that she knows, that she's bound to a King, in such crazy mythological ways. 

Definitely terrifying....

No wonder Francis has been so uncooperative. On top of whatever he's trying to hide from them. 

The Devil, the King of Demons; that would sober anyone.

Better not share this teasing comparison with him, though.

"How so?" 

"Hell is the worst prison of the universe and its cells are... well, just like the place where all those unfortunate people go after death, eaten away by guilt. I happened to go into a cell - every five decades, so as to make sure that everything was working properly, if the punishment was up to the fault or required the Devil's touch…." Their gazes meet, although he quickly averts his with a tense smile on his face. "I mean... I-I guess there's no need to go into the details." 

"Guess not," Chloe whispers.

The unease she feels about his forthcoming departure has grown stronger, more painful with each of his words directly connected to that place. Directly connected to what would await him down there, far away from her. 

Lucifer nods. "Anyway, there always came a time when the tortured soul had a glimpse of what - or who - was beyond the loop. They saw me, eventually. When it happened, each one of them had that same look. A look within which determination, distress to leave this endless nightmare, fiercely glowed."

He smiles again, lighter expression than the topic explained - 'barely' explained, as far as human perception can bear.

"They all try to convince me that they shouldn't be punished, even though they are because they feel like they should. Like I could do anything about it - me, the Devil!" 

Maybe he could?

He said it himself, in the car. Hell, this dark place of nightmares strangely responding to his 'desires' of control over demons, she'd submitted - a 'she', really? - to his will for six hundred years or more. His power over this place has most likely changed. 

How much? How so? Under which conditions?

To this, Chloe can't find answers on her own, not even a theory. She's still limited in her perception. 

This is as frustrating as comforting... not being fully aware of these sorts of details about him, about Hell, and everything else. 

This is as frustrating as comforting to know that she's still able to do her job, to trust most of her perceptions. 

And Chloe's present perception is that Francis has been involved in Penelope's murder.

He has, somehow.

She points her chin at him. "Is there something you can do about him?" 

Lucifer arches an eyebrow. 

"Your mojo-thing," Chloe specifies. "Could help us learn further information before his lawyer gets here." 

She'd seen the Center's lawyer leave the precinct at the same time as them this morning, but he was supposed to come back in the afternoon for a few more interviews. It's probably a matter of minutes before he uses his legislative eloquence to counter their efforts.

Lucifer shakes his head. "I'm afraid not. That would only half work."

"Half work?"

"Drug use tends to bias the subject's response to it," he explains. "See, drug addicts - people who are generally in withdrawal - only care about their present desires, whose deeper reasons are broken up by the more or less intense effects of the drugs they use. This is chemical."

"But he could still tell you something useful, right?" Chloe insists.

He shrugs. "That's risking rubbing him up the wrong way, Detective. I doubt he'll want to tell us anything afterwards, with or without his lawyer to hold his hand."

Here's this smile again, devilish mischief all over his face.

"A demon could hold his other hand, what do you say?"

"I say that gratuitous violence against a suspect is inappropriate."

"What's 'gratuitous' here? He cost me ten dollars; I want a run for my money!" he exclaims, still annoyed. 

Chloe rolls her eyes while shaking her head. "Serves you right for betting on our suspect." Following this, Chloe smirks, shamelessly teasing her pouting partner; far, so far away from the royal aura that she and Francis have felt before. "I never thought of the Devil as a sore loser…."

"Because he's not. Even more so that he never loses!" he replies confidently. 

"Sure."

"I'm just the victim of this boy's illogical behavior. Who would've thought that someone in his situation could afford such an expensive, illegal substance?"

He still sounds like any sore-loser, but it nevertheless draws Chloe's attention to another detail. It had seemed insignificant at first, annoying at best; to see Lucifer and Ella squabbling over it, that and listening to Lucifer's endless monologue. 

He still hasn't stopped. 

Rightly so.

How could Francis buy two grams of coke? 

The kids from the street, drug addicts in general, know some tricks, they know where to look for good stuff, good and cheap. But money… that's something else. That's always been enough to act violently.

Agressions in streets, home invasions.

Murder, sometimes.

"You're right," she says, watching Francis rub his sleeve on the table - over and over again - as he looks around him.

A nervous tic. 

"I know," Lucifer says. 

She elbows him again, delighted to hear his overly dramatic moan before continuing; "You're right about what we saw on the security footage. It was speed."

"So there's still someone who has faith in a fallen angel like me? How refreshing!"

"The question is, where did he find enough money to buy hard drugs in the meantime?"

Lucifer shrugs once more. "Just ask him, Detective." 

"Dan might be back with his lawyer any minute now," she sighs, pursing her lips afterwards.

"Right, such a premature finale!" he scoffs again. "I can make the pleasure last, though - with 'exhilarating languor', you know?"

The smile they share radiates with a similar intensity, enhancing their professional and more private harmony, deepening Chloe's unease further in the process. The few lights of the room brush Lucifer's shoulders, the grey fabric of his suit. 

At the thought of ashes, her smile fades.

At the thought of time, her gaze shies away from his.

Her steps lead her outside, far away from the darkness of the room, yet not before agreeing with him on an all new strategy. It's with his word for giving her five more minutes alone with the suspect that she walks into the interrogation room again.

"Where's my lawyer?" Francis asks as soon as she closes the door.

"He'll be here soon. Does it bother you if I wait for him here with you?" 

Francis’s forehead creases with suspicion. A few seconds passed before he folds his arms on the table. "As long as you don’t ask anymore questions…." he says.

Chloe smiles and pulls the chair towards her, file put on the table. 

"No more questions," she reassures him. 

Once seated, she turns the file towards her, her fingers on its upper right corner. "I've something else to do, anyway."

The file opened, she's not surprised to hear a strangled noise from Francis. She keeps her eyes on the file, looking at the first picture taken from the center's videotape showing Francis with Penelope. Whistling, Chloe puts it face down on the metal table, taking her time to pick the next one. All the time necessary for him to watch it. 

"What's that?" he asks her. 

Chloe holds back her smile before lifting her chin, feigning indifference. She lifts the picture slightly, Francis' buying drugs from this unknown dealer forever caught on paper; with Penelope's shape in the corner as a bonus. "This? Oh, it's from the security camera of the Center - from the garage, you know? This is part of the reason why my partner is so mad at you…" she adds with a sigh.

She watches Francis struggling with both fear of what she might know and that of her partner. 

"M-mad?" 

Clever. Not that it surprises her. He's trying to buy some time.

It probably isn't his first arrest. 

She already thought so, since he asked for a lawyer so quickly.

She nods, putting the picture down. "Yeah. He's the sore-loser type, especially when he had every reason to believe he'd win. So did I."

"I don't get it..." Francis whispers, his eyes stopping at the closed door.

"Look, this picture - you're clearly buying speed. Lucifer bet you'd have it on you when we found you, while my colleague Ella - our forensic scientist - had bet on cocaine." Chloe spins the incriminating picture on the table, shaking her head as she pretends to be disappointed. "Lucifer has very, very good eyesight. I never thought he'd be wrong. But you know, like he said…" Turning the picture a third time before looking at Francis, she repeats; "to err is human."

She won't specify her partner's non-human nature, though. Francis stays quiet, even avoids her gaze until she shrugs. "I should tell Ella to give you your part of the bet. Although if you can afford cocaine  _ that soon _ after Mrs Sanchez's murder, it won't do you any good. Am I right?"

Francis barely replies with shifty eyes.

Chloe smiles, lifts her hands, then apologizes to him; "Right; that was a question. Sorry. Just thinking out loud. Don't mind me."

She lets a whole minute go by, turning over other pages from the file, more pictures of Penelope's body and Ella's toxicology report. Francis inhales sharply, sniffs, rubs his eyes. Then Chloe sits up, sighing as loudly as she can with an annoyed look towards the closed door. "What's taking them so long?" 

"Dunno..." Francis whispers, elbows on the table.

"You'd think that murder conviction would get them moving faster, but no!" 

Francis freezes. "M-murder? But... you said you only had a few questions!"

"I did," Chloe says. "But... since you refuse to answer our questions, the prosecution will have to settle for circumstantial evidence. It's enough, these days."

She starts to hear voices approaching the interrogation room. Lucifer's exhilarating languor is coming to an end, it seems. Right on time. It's still short, anyway. 

"Circumstantial evidence?" Francis repeats, his face going blank.

Chloe nods, pointing to the open file in front of her. "You know; the purchase of illegal substances, your altercation with the victim the day before her death, your presence at the crime scene, this sudden change in your drug habits that matches with Penelope's stolen check in Mrs Harris' office." 

She pretends to feel sorry for him. And she is, she mostly is.

Scaring a kid to do her job, this isn't something she's proud of. 

_ "It was a job, Detective. Something I was forced to do."  _

She fully understands Lucifer's feelings.

She's surprised she didn't figure this out sooner.

_ To err is human, Decker. _

Francis is, too. 

This is his chance to do better.

"I wish I could ask you questions, those that you'll need to prove your innocence in all this, I really do. But-" Chloe turns to the door behind which she hears several male voices more and more clearly - Lucifer's being the loudest, of course. No doubt he's still standing in Dan's and the lawyer's way. "But it's too late, I guess. Now that your lawyer's here..." she says with a slight, sad smile.

She starts to gather the documents put all over the table, as slowly as Lucifer allows her to, taking the picture of the victim's body last before closing the file. 

The scraping of her chair as she gets up is noisily theatrical, as was this last smile - light, a shy expression of her compassion about his inevitable future in prison. Watching all these feelings in Francis' wide eyes, Chloe knows that those years playing into second-class movies, those years showing her boobs in a hot tub, aren't wasted time. 

"--ough is enough, Mr Morningstar! I'm here to represent the interests of Mr Harri's center, at 'your' request indeed, but any other legal requests of yours will have to wait until the end of this interview, which you're persisting in delaying!" The lawyer shoo Lucifer away as he opens the door.

Right when Francis grasps Chloe's wrist. 

The acting of a former actress, now working for the L.A.P.D., who's enhanced by her devilish partner's bluff has no other choice but bear fruit, right?

"Wait! I'll answer your questions." 

**-xXx-**

An hour later, Chloe walks out of the interrogation room with Lucifer on her heels and the frustrated lawyer's glare following their triumphant exit.

She's exhausted, but satisfied. 

It's lost time - lost in a much more dramatic way elsewhere - in questioning a suspect. Yet, it'll save them some for the rest of the investigation.

She feels lighter, her good mood can also be felt in the way she behaves with her partner. There's barely an inch between she and he, more smiles than she wants to count, more laughs than she can stop. 

She doesn't even roll her eyes when he hails Ella while he closes the door, a dozen heads - including the forensic expert's - turning towards them soon after. Chloe knows she feels 'better' by not spontaneously taking a step back, less worried about the coming gossip about their proximity than its coming end.

"Miss Lopez! I declare our bet null and void!"

Dan joins them before she does, leaving the room next to the interrogation room with a disgruntled look on his face, the same as the lawyer. "Right... because you also put money on victims now," he says, slamming the door shut. 

Lucifer arched an eyebrow. It's a safe bet to say that his next words would imply disdain and mockery. 

"Isn't this another premature move from the Detective Douche?"

Dan shakes his head. "Dick." 

"Douche," Lucifer repeats with a smirk. "It starts deceptively as the same but there's a difference, believe me." 

Although happy to have a solid lead to follow, Chloe nevertheless listens to her special warning signal for 'diabolico-human testosterone challenge' and hands her file to her ex-husband, voluntarily placing herself between him and Lucifer. Not that it would prevent Lucifer to keep insulting Dan over her head. 

She's not miraculous enough to stop the Devil's pranks.

"Here, I wrote down everything that Francis told us about our man. If it was indeed one of the many volunteers, he should be on the list. Look for anyone who's crazy enough to ask for a kid to pour poison in our victim's tea." 

Dan takes the file, not without looking daggers at her partner. "Crazy or not, our guy might be clever enough and use a false name," he says, checking the file, then shaking his head for what it contains. "How can you ask a kid to do this?

"Oh you'd be surprised," Lucifer says in her back. 

"Not if it's another of your silly metaphors," Dan retorts.

"They're not—" 

"You heard him, Dan," Chloe takes part. "He knew how to use Francis' weak spots. For him, it was pouring the vial contents into her tea or getting kicked out of the center for theft and drug use." 

Moreover since Penelope had noticed the boy's problems the day before. Another detail keeps bothering Chloe - all the more since she hadn't been able to clarify it with Francis who'd been cooperative enough for the bulk of the investigation but much less so about their relationship. 

They were close, period. 

It couldn't be explained, according to him.

Maybe not how strong a bond can be - how could she explain this bond between her and Lucifer? -but its origin…. 

She finds it hard to believe that they had become friends at the center just like that, thanks to the victim's regular visits, through unplanned encounters when she was leaving Mrs Harris office after giving her check.

These encounters shouldn't have been that fortuitous if he'd exactly known when walking into the office, right after she'd given her check that day, when she and Mrs Harris would walk out of it to show Mrs Sanchez how the center was evolving, when they'd come back for a cup of tea thirty minutes later. 

It can't be just 'luck'. This volunteer hadn't surprised him stealing the aforesaid check, nor had proposed to him a 'deal' afterwards just like that, just because he was 'luckily' passing by. As happy as she is to have gotten answers, Chloe refrains a shiver of disgust when she recalls another detail she'd be glad to forget. 

**_"This isn't the worst deal there, trust me. That's why I didn't argue."_ **

It's with these kinds of moments that she finds it hard to appreciate her job. 

Happy to do it right, sicked-off by what she heard.

_ "It was a job, Detective." _

In the end, it's always more than that. 

Lucifer's work had become so much _ more _ than that. Six hundred times more. 

_ "I had no choice! It was either that or die in the street!" _ Francis had shouted.

_ "Something I was forced to do..." _

Chloe's smile fades a bit, her good mood passing as time. It's also her, probably her, who turns good things into bad ones.

She'd have liked to be able to blame her changing emotions, shaped by this strengthened bond between her and the Devil. 

She'd have liked to know what to do with this information that she had so cleverly avoided since his return. 

She doesn't know what to do except act like they always do.

Can we only talk about 'habits' with the Devil as our partner? 

"You think he lied about the vial?" Dan asks her. "What if he's our guy's accomplice from the start? Maybe he made it all up to get out of trouble, who knows?"

"Well, I do," Lucifer answers for her.

Dan rolls his eyes, raising the hand that holds the questionable file. "Right - 'I am the Devil, I know what liars are like!' " he scornfully recites. 

Lucifer keeps silent for three seconds. 

Three seconds of peace that Chloe sorely missed the next moment.

"You should stick to mimes, Detective Douche. That's friendly advice. "

His jaw clenched, Dan is finger pointing the Devil, his two weeks old rage barely contained. "We are  _ not _ friends! Never!"

_ It's only been two weeks....  _

There's so little time left to spend together. 

Before Lucifer can politely answer to him, Mazikeen walks out of their superior's office with her check that she uses like a fan until she joins them, sneering at her ex's raging words. Her smile widens when she turns to Lucifer. "Isn't that another human who hates you?"

It still surprises Chloe not to see fangs under her lips.

It's nothing to do with Maze's demonic sde. It's just Maze being… Maze.

"The more the merrier, hm?" Lucifer replies with a tense smile. 

Dan lowers his hand. 

"Not anymore," he mutters before going back to his desk. 

Chloe exhales deeply as she watches him walk away with his back deliberately turned to the three of them. Maybe even more turned to her than to Lucifer. 

They both need to have a serious talk about Lucifer's return in their lives. 

She has to find a way to make him accept it, for as long as it would last; that and his next 'long' departure. 

Shit.

How is she gonna explain this to Dan? To Ella? To her boss? 

What about Trixie?

Lucifer's gazing at Mazikeen's check when she turns back. "Well? Tacking a kid to the ground brings how much in exactly? More than the astronomical sum of money you spent for five thousand boxes of plonk and lube, I hope?" 

The demon runs her fingernail over the paper to fold it in half before putting it back in her pocket jacket. The gesture is slow, a slow threat to Chloe's human perception.

"You know what humans say - 'time is money'. Although you didn't spend much by warning us all that you were leaving, did you?" 

Lucifer gets upset in no time. "How about you take this sum of money off the bloody mess you left in my club, hm?!"

"Oh do I? And how about I kick your ass o—" 

"Okay... that's enough now, stop.  _ Stop!"  _ Chloe shouts, raising her hands. 

Once she's certain they would remain silent for more than a few seconds, she loudly sighs her irritation. "Never thought I'd say this, but you guys are  _ worse _ than Trixie and Ella combined." 

"I'm no—" Lucifer starts to exclaim, offended.

She asks for his silence with a glare, Mazikeen greeting her authority with a smirk. She then asks them to follow her by pointing her chin towards her desk; a more discreet place for sentimental - would she dare to say, family - issues of these two supernatural pains in the ass. 

Half the precinct already knew about the massive amount of lube at Lux's, might as well keep the other half for themselves.

"Okay," she says once she gets to her workspace. "Now that it's just you and me, I'll make you both a deal." 

Lucifer passes his tongue over the inside of his lips. "Oooh, Detective! Speaking the Devil's language so fast…." 

"What's the deal?" Maze asks. 

"Lucifer genuinely apologizes to you and you stop making him pay for his departure whenever it pleases you, 'kay?" Chloe offers. "I really can't handle your hard feelings and Dan's at the same time, I'm only human." 

Lucifer's eyes widen as soon as he hears the word 'apologize' before staring at the demon, many reproaches glowing within his gaze. He starts to rebel the moment Chloe stops talking, "What?! Why should I?" 

"Deal," Maze accepts, not hesitating a second. 

"There's 'no' deal. Not by a long shot!" Lucifer exclaims. 

Chloe sighs deeply. "Lucifer, you left without telling anyone but me. Maze deserved better than this and you know it. So... deal with it, literally! I'd like to go through the list of volunteers before I pick up Trixie from school."

"I can leave that to you." 

" 'Course you can," the demon groans, crossing her arms on her chest. 

His eyes burned with warning, his former right-hand woman - demon - glaring back at him. 

"A deal is a deal, Lucifer," Chloe reminds him. "Especially with the Devil, right?"

"Speaking of deal rules, how about the part where I do 'accept' the deal?" he stubbornly retorts. 

Chloe squints. "Well, let's just say that, as the new Queen of Hell, I get a voice for any deal involving you - which I decide to apply here."

Mazikeen sneers at the King's annoyed sigh, forced to obey to a simple human's will. "Well done, Decker." 

Lucifer yields with another long sigh. "Very well. Mazikeen...."

She turns her head, arms still crossed over her chest. 

"I apologize for my... hasty departure. I had no intention of hurting you by implying that you no longer had your place in Hell, nor by my side."

Her grouchy face softens on his last words, for the next ones as well.

"Actually, It's quite the opposite. You were- You' _ re  _ the only one I trust to protect everyone I care about here on Earth. Besides…" He smiles. "Didn't we agree on the fact that you no longer wanted to be under my command?"

The demon smiles in turn, just enough to hope for a lasting truce between them two. "As we agreed on my free will - you should have let me choose to follow you or not," she reminds him.

"You're right," he admits. "My apologies, really."

They are, Chloe can tell. 

As for Maze, she quietly looks at him for a long time, her gaze - not even her expression - doesn't change for a glimpse of forgiveness for the Devil. Maybe because she's been raised in a place devoid of such a concept. 

Her expression changes eventually, her mouth curving into a smile. "Okay."

With these words, the demon punches her king on the shoulder, her smile widening with his outraged yelp.

"Now we're even." 

_ "Ow!  _ If that's how you accept apologies, I'd better refrain from doing so!" He rubs his shoulder, then looks at it closely. "What's wrong with this bloody shoulder today...?"

"So, how was it in Russia?" Chloe asks her as she sits behind her desk. 

"Cold." 

Chloe arches an eyebrow, waiting in vain for more. 

Maze shrugs eventually. "Cold, Decker;" she repeats. "That's all."

Chloe notices how disappointed she sounds, how she averts her gaze. 

She feels her pain.

"And where do you plan to go next?" 

_ "Maze!"  _ Ella cries as she runs to them before hugging the demon. 

Lucifer smirks as Maze freezes into the unexpected hug, cocking her face to the side, away from Ella's strong grip around her shoulders. 

"I missed you so much! A month is way too long. You realize that our last girls' night out was... can't even tell when! When, Chloe?" Ella asks, still hugging Maze.

Chloe opens her mouth, her friend cutting her off enthusiastically shortly after, "Let's plan this _ \- ASAP! _ We have so much to talk about! I'm calling Linda!" 

Ella disappears to her lab as quickly as she came, phone in hand and Lucifer shouting a monetary reminder in her back. "I'm still waiting for my ten dollars, Miss Lopez! Where is she running off to? Miss Lopez? Wait!" he hails her, hurriedly walking towards the lab. 

Maze looks at Chloe who smiles, holding back this irrepressible urge to laugh at her shocked expression. 

She taps her file on the desk. "Was Russia really that 'cold'?" 

Maze comes closer, shrugging again before rummaging to her friend's things - she picks one of the many ballpoint pens from the jar, skillfully twisting it from one dangerous finger to the other, all this little display of supernatural skills without looking at Chloe once. "It's like I told you. Like you just said." 

Chloe nods, pensive. She shrugs in turn. "That probably explains you being back in L.A. so quickly. I didn't expect to see you, neither did Francis."

The demon frowns. "Francis?"

Chloe smiles, amused by her friend's compulsive disinterest in details and people she thinks as insignificant. Somehow, Chloe should feel 'honored' not to be part of this group of people, she likes Trixie. Likes Linda.

As someone else, someone that Maze clearly doesn't want to name before her. 

"Our suspect. You had your heel in his back." 

"Oh, yeah."

The demon shrugs once more, throwing the ballpoint pen into another jar, on a desk five meters away. Freaking precision, if this isn't supernatural stuff at work....

"You said you missed me…." 

Chloe grins.

"Are you talking about... 'feelings'?" she teases her, yet touched by this half spoken truth about her return. 

Mazikeen squints, immediately striking back with a larger grin; "We can talk about something else. What about you and Lucifer?"

" 'Me and Lucifer'...what?"

"You were hopping mad at him less than 24 hours ago, Decker."

The latter opens her file to put on an act, do something, something to look at so as not to look at her friend, not to see her gloat for having nailed the main issue. "I 'was', yes. Isn't that all about feelings again?"

"It's not." With these words, Mazikeen places her hands on the desk, leaning forward - until her shadow covers the file, until she prevents her friend from dodging her questions. "It's all about 'acting out'."

Chloe lifts her chin, arching an eyebrow.

"You know, how turned on you were last night…" the demon says, her smile widening. "How hard Lucifer was in his pa—"

"I'm working."

Maze taps her fingernails on the desk. "Not an answer."

"No real question either," Chloe replies, not taking her eyes off the file. 

"I can arrange that. Did you two make up with naked s—?"

"Maze!" she hisses with a panicked glance.

Mazikeen raises her palms, then puts them back on the desk, fingernails back on tapping the piece of furniture. "You wanted a 'real' question."

Chloe sighs, looking around her one last time. 'We talked. Talked a lot."

Maze waits no more than a few seconds to insist. "It's a codeword for giving him a...?" 

With her slender and skillful fingers she starts to mime the devilish grip and inflates the inside of her right cheek with a suggestive lick.

Chloe rolls her eyes and closes the file before facing her friend's teasing, the friend she 'missed' a day ago. So much could change in 24 hours.

"What about you? 'Cold' is your new codeword for Eve or what?"

Mazikeen's smile fades. Out of the corner of her eye, Chloe sees Ella coming out of her lab, Lucifer on her heels - apparently satisfied with whatever they talked together. Her lips curving into a smile, she nods at the forensic expert as the demon looks in the same direction. "You better get out of here before she begs us to sing karaoke in her lab."

Mazikeen stares at her for a moment, almost enough time for Lucifer to join them.

"Nicely dodged, Decker." She turns to leave, pauses, then turns back to Chloe. "Do you mind if I pick up Trixie from school? I mean, Ella's gonna ask why I left so… "  she adds awkwardly.

A corner of Chloe's mouth lifts. "I don't mind. She'll be happy to see you. She _missed_ you." 

Mazikeen squints, an amused smile appearing on her lips anyway. "Cool. See ya, then." Halfway up the stairs, the demon turns around one last time, shouting for everyone concerned or not, "That'll give you both time to have a good fuck!"

All people present in the precinct turn to the two partners, one barely offended in his private life - mostly because he never had one - and the other turning crimson for the treacherous reveal of hers. 

Chloe meets Dan's gaze, more embarrassed by him obviously judging her than by the demon's words. 

Lucifer shakes his head at her side, sighing, "It's little time for many lube, anyway…."

Chloe thinks back to what he said this morning in the street. She hesitates a split second before launching into the topic.

She's embarrassed enough to try, at least.

"Speaking of which...."

He arches an eyebrow. "I can arrange a delivery to your place in just a few clicks. How many boxes would you like, Detective?" 

"No, no. I-I...." She takes a deep breath, repeatedly scratching the corner of the file in front of her. "I'm talking about... what you said during Francis' arrest, you know?"

"About the orifices? Aren't those the best places to use lube?" 

Chloe shakes her head, turning more red by seconds. 

"About the fact that you... that you haven't... since… got it?" she stammers, quickly pointing at his crotch.

She can't look him in the eye, she can't look at him at all. 

She nevertheless does when she hears him chuckle. The smile he gives her his sweet compassion for her shy interrogation. "No shame talking with me, Detective. Speak freely." 

She smiles in turn, slowly inhaling her discomfort to exhale it a second later. She's neither stupid nor a virgin. 

She's not ashamed.

Not for this.

"Right. What I wanted to say... six hundred years spent in Hell, without any kind of sexual activity, it's... it doesn't sound like the Devil I know." 

Lucifer shrugs at that. 

"Maybe because this Devil no longer exists." He gives her further explanations when he sees her puzzled expression, "You're not the only one who's noticed this change about me. Linda has spent the last session to find valid explanations for it. Some of her theories were… interesting, to say the least." 

"Which ones?"

He doesn't answer right away, doesn't answer at all. "These are just theories, nothing 'interesting' enough in that." 

Then he smiles at her. Chloe can't help but smile all the same, yet convinced that he's hiding something from her. It probably has something to do with him having spent eons in Hell, since he didn't confirm not having sexual activities down there. 

He didn't say anything.

He just clouded the real issue, again.

For how long would he keep doing that? This is important stuff. Isn't she important enough for him to tell her everything now, for those few months left?

The pressure is building in her belly.

Four months, no... three months and two weeks.

And those eight months in Hell.

In Hell, that would be more like... eight hundred - no, thousands of years witho—

"Detective?"

She jumps for the second time today. "Hm? What?"

"How about Tuesday?"

Chloe frowns. "Tuesday?" she repeats.

"For our date. I was thinking about next Tuesday, it'll give me time to get some important details worked out. This third date can't be anything but 'special', can it?" 

"Third?"

"Well, yes. If we count the first two failed attempts at intimacy between us, of course," he says. "So, Tuesday suits you?" 

Chloe opens her mouth, surprised, panicked, excited; a little bit of the three at once. Staying focused on the first feeling visible on her features, Lucifer hastens to explain his request, worried - as always - of not reacting as she hoped. "You said you wanted 'baby steps'."

Soon afterwards, a beguiling smile rises on his devilish, handsome face. "Besides, having an intimate dinner with me is the best way to solve the 'Devil's unexpected blue balls' case." 

Blue balls?

Aware of her colleagues' insistent glances and her partner's slightly anxious - though mostly amused - one on her, Chloe doesn't waste time to weigh the pros and cons. 

She's waited two weeks.

Wasted weeks, wasted years too.

She nods, a quiet agreement for their next 'intimate' case about the man who had claimed her as 'his', who she had claimed as 'hers'. The man who claims her so for the next months, for longer than that. 

"Tuesday. Sure," she whispers. "Can't wait."

The pressure in her belly increases, is appeased by his genuine smile. "Wonderful!"

Her discomfort doesn't wait for him to walk away to affect her breathing. Chloe's face turns red, then goes white as she half-listens to him complaining about coffee and then disappearing in the kitchen. 

Her fingernails scratch the file. Her breaths quicken increasingly, answering to the pressure within her, everywhere…. 

What she feels between her legs might be considered as much uncomfortable as masculine 'Blue Balls', although she can't tell if it's about him postponing this 'sex' case to solve until next week or rather about her reaction, stupid panic thoughts about giving back his reputation to the Devil.

She can't panic about this.

She's not.

Nope. 

**Tbc**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chap coming as soon as I can write/translate it (probably gonna start it tomorrow)  
> Also you can follow me on twitter and tumblr where I often share snippets before publication here.  
> See ya!


	13. Sacrosanct Douche

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, finished! ('got scared this morning, I've nearly lost half of it because Drive decided not to save the chap last night.) Crisis averted, anyway.  
> Let's go.  
> Another case, another week on Earth, another quarrel about the Devil!
> 
> Music:  
> Lost Control (With Lions).  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/3VXJswStckA6V6Lu59F9wB?si=BiHc0h5nT9uXjSScaZLpuA

**SACROSANCT DOUCHE**

13

* * *

"Whoever did this is a  _ very _ bad person."

Whoever's in the room, alive and aware of the seriousness of what's been done here, wouldn't contradict Ella. 

Who would see anything 'good' in murder? 

Those responsible weren't always bad, but... the consequences were always far from what they all hoped for. 

Lucifer's reaction was also far from what Chloe hoped for. "Evil is a very human notion, Miss Lopez. It's only natural, given your origins...."

Seeing Chloe's, Dan's and Ella's puzzled stare on him, he adds, " 'So God created man in His own image'?"

"I have a preference for -'He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him'," Dan recites from the corner of the living room.

Chloe has met his gaze past the first part of the quote, as annoyed as she feels guilty by the last part about the truth. She's aware that his words are for her as much as they're for Lucifer. She knows she can no longer put off having a real talk with him, about what happened that night in the temple.

Nor can she tell the 'truth', as he implicitly asked for it.

What is she supposed to say?

That Lucifer had brought a demon invasion in line - demons possessing dead bodies - before going back to Hell to keep order, to keep them all safe?

Lucifer maintains eye contact with Dan, stony-faced and yet amused by another moralizing biblical attack against the Devil. He did, until he heard the part about how the truth hadn't been a part of whatever he'd said or done since the beginning of time. He tenses in front of the door wide open on the street, on neighbours and others curious from the neighbourhood or not of their new victim. 

It's only thanks to Ella's intervention that the quotes game won’t turn into a far less politically correct exchange, exchange of punches even, at a crime scene. "See? We're all feeling the loss today. All because there's someone bad enough to kill on 'Big Guy's Day'...." 

She shakes her head, her camera slowly raised up to her sad face for another shot of the victim's, immortalizing this profanation crime to God's day. 

"Sunday is His day. That and Ben's day," she says.

"Ben?" Chloe repeats, intrigued.

Ella nods, passes the strap of her camera over her shoulder before taking her kit from the bag at her feet. "Ben & Jerry's Karamel Sutra on my couch after service."

"Out-and-out foodle are you, Miss Lopez? The Almighty Mindless Idiot couldn't be sanctified in other ways!" Lucifer teases her, overly emphasizing the 'mindless idiot' part when his gaze meets Dan's.

Torn between making fun of him and her growing inner conflict, Chloe takes great care to not cross their gazes, far more interested in solving this murder than in her both ex and future husband's conflicts. 

Future husband?

The word went so quickly through her mind that she barely catches its meaning now. It's not so much the word as what it might imply that bothers her. 

There are so many names for their relationship, she and Lucifer.

'King and Queen of Hell' wins the overstatement's gold medal, for sure; although it's an accurate statement given the facts. That's what it is; a fact, it's more factual than desired, more than a word of their own. 

For them.

The other words are simple, more complicated, which doesn't entirely fit with them as a couple. Even the word 'couple' sounds...

… wrong?

Partners, companions....

Boyfriend? Ugh, no; she's not a kid anymore. 

Deckerstar? 'Sounds more like an eulogistic title than a real naming for what they are.

_ What _ are they? 

What could they be over four months?

What would they find after eight months - more for him - of separation? 

_ Find out whoever did this, Chloe. Find some normalcy in your life again. _

This thought brings a long sigh to her lips. There is few things better than murder to 'get back to normal' after the Devil has started to nest in your version of normalcy. The corners of her mouth turn up as she imagines Lucifer cleaning his feathers like any other nestling of Earth's wildlife. 

After all, God could very well have been inspired by His children to create the rest, just as He had created Humanity from His own image.

Thinking about the murder is also reassuring, it's comforting - somehow - to realize that her life had never been... ordinary, even within the framework of 'normalcy'.

She's never been normal anyway.

"What a mess…" Chloe says, looking around.

She steps over a broken terra cotta vase near the front door, probably placed there to brighten up the victim's modest interior space. The decor is modest too, just like the neighbourhood. El Sereno isn't really a stopover for tourists and even less so for the rest of L.A. 

Chloe can't help but see a connection with Penelope Sanchez's murder. 

East Los, again.

Another strange death in less than two weeks, not the kind of murders that were often recorded in this part of town moreover. 

Could it just be a coincidence?

Sanchez didn't live in this kind of poor neighbourhood, unlike Jessie Evans - lying dead between the kitchen door and the living room, her face buried in the round carpet that is as wide as the coffee table; baste of used woods and different pieces of tinted glass for its top.

And home invasions happen all the time around here.

Chloe shakes her head.

Still... who would assault a young woman in broad daylight? 

"Yeah, there was a struggle for sure," Dan says, pointing out the cracks in the glass, next to a cup whose contents now soaks the carpet as much as Jessie's blood.

"Perhaps she knew her attacker?" she wonders, looking at the still intact teapot on the edge of the table.

Lucifer leans forward, gazing at its contents with a disdainful sniff, "Who would've killed her for serving him flavoured dried powder?" 

"This isn't a murder motive," Dan replies.

Lucifer stands up, shaking his head, "I can't believe you're working for the L.A.P.D...."

Dan looks him straight in the eye, warning him then, "Something you really should keep in mind, man."

Lucifer arches an eyebrow, "Excuse me?" 

"Ella, we should analyze the tea once we get back to the station, we never know…" Chloe cuts them off quickly, touching the blue teapot with her gloved hand. "It's still warm."

"Better not drink this, Detective," Lucifer tells her, Dan's strange threat forgotten for the moment.

She rolls her eyes while putting her other glove on, "Because it might be useful evidence for the investigation?"

"Because it's undrinkable!" he says very seriously. "Tea bags... here's the real blasphemy!"

Still taking pictures of the table, broken cups and teapot of bloodcurdling murder, Ella chuckles, "So it's true? British people are really tight on the art of tea?" 

"I'm not British. I am Devil-ish." 

Ella stares at him skeptically. "And the accent is for...?" 

"For sounding as charming as I look," Lucifer replies, as serious as ever. 

"Really?" Chloe asks.

He shrugs. "I speak every past and present language, Detective. How foolish of me it would have been not to make good use of it. Besides... I know how much you like this accent. I thus tend to believe that my choice was the best, wasn't it?" 

She could hardly pretend the opposite, not with this arousing quiver running down her spine. She gives  _ the _ glare, though - annoyed with him not respecting the 'professional behavior' rules they agreed on since his return.

She's even more annoyed when she gets that he respected them a second later, that he's just acting… 'normal'.

It is.

It's  _ them. _

She's the one who is acting different now, who's taking whatever he says as anything but an inconsequential teasing.

But there would be consequences.

Quick ones, as quick as her inappropriate thoughts following this quiver. 

"Lucifer."

" _ Detective?"  _ he answers back, with the 'best' intonation for his devilish charms. 

"This is a crime scene."

"So it seems." 

"Shall we focus on the crime?" she proposes.

"Great idea," says Dan.

Lucifer nods, his amused smile - proud, perhaps, of the effect he knew he had on her - not leaving his face as he walks back to the front door, Ella whispering to him, thumbs up; "Great choice, buddy."

"Thank you, Miss Lopez."

Shaking her head, Chloe pulls on her gloves to wrist level and flexes her fingers before grabbing one of the photo frames that had fallen on the carpet. The glass is cracked in the middle, an almost perfect diagonal crossing the text within, preserved from the dust and blood that had soaked much of the synthetic wool. 

"Looks like our victim was a believer too," she says, her fingers passing over the glass at the level of the cross overhanging the text, then frowning. "What's that, Latin?"

She doesn't have time to decipher the first sentence when Lucifer has once again approached her to try to take the frame from her hands. 

"Rather fitting to this Holy Sunday," he says.

Chloe moves her gloved hand away from his that's over her shoulder. She taps his fingertips, replying reproachfully, "As much as not contaminate possible evidence. Gloves?" 

Lucifer rolls his eyes, "Right… gloves would certainly prevent the contamination of Father's sacrosanct Word from a devilish touch of mine, what the hell was I thinking?"

Chloe giggles, Lucifer's sulky expression disarmed by her reaction. A smile drains his face from the heavy tension of Dan's unfounded, yet totally understandable, accusations against them both. Eager to maintain some frivolity around such a serious crime, Chloe does her best so as not to look at her ex, neither listening to his sighs nor his muttering near the window. 

She turns her attention back to the photo frame. 

"Quasi gregem, sunt posuit in inferno; mortem facit eorum pascua..." she reads aloud. " 'Gregem'... gregem; it means 'group' or 'gang', maybe? 'Inferno' for Hell and 'Mortem' for dead. 'A bit macabre, mh?" 

"More precisely; 'Like sheep they are appointed for Sheol; death shall be their shepherd, and the upright shall rule over them in the morning. Their form shall be consumed in Sheol, with no place to dwell," Lucifer translates effortlessly as only two in three present persons stare at him, surprised. 

Well... Chloe is still getting used to it, slowly but surely. 

Once the surprise is gone, Ella shivers in front of the body. She shakes her head and grunts, "Psalms… not my favorite part of the holy book." 

"That makes two of us," Lucifer says. "Boredom is part of the deal when you read such bloody nonsense, anyway. But I'm surprised you know a few Latin words, Detective!" he adds, turning to her.

Shrugging, Chloe puts the frame back where she found it, "Just a few words."

It's the least you could do after days spent on the web or with your nose in arcane books. This is the only useful thing she had learned, really; really annoyed that every website, every read book, from the first page to the last one, every available terrestrial source of information had proved Lucifer's point. 

Human perception really _ sucks. _

Centuries of sanctifications, of shared ideas about the good, the evil, about God, the Devil, Hell, Heaven; years of moronic, yet supposedly intensive judgment of every detail around this single,  _ big _ question….

'How does Hell work?'

And no one ever agreed on an answer?

How could Humanity have only agreed on the Devil being 'evil' in the first place? 

United in stupidity, not knowing an inch of the truth. 

Chloe knows better, at least. She knows the Devil.

Yet, she wants to know more.

She had promised herself that she would no longer go alone in this quest for... for 'multiple perceptions' since Kinley, since Lucifer's return in Hell. Back then, she hadn't been alone, not the first days. Linda had listened to her, answering general questions about Lucifer, like Amenadiel had given some answers about Hell's functioning, back to the time when he wanted his brother getting back to his task. Maze had been there, too - telling her everything she knew about Hell's borders, who could come in, who were guarding them and why. 

_ "There are some creatures that aren't welcome anywhere, you know?"  _

Then everyone had come to terms with the possibility that had gradually become the truth; the truth that Lucifer would never come back. 

But he did. 

And he would leave her again. 

Chloe is determined not to let him go as easily as the first time. And if he must go anyway, well... she wants to make sure she'd done everything possible to keep him safe here with her. 

He did come back, when everything said that he wouldn't, when everyone told her that he had had no choice, that it had been the only solution for everyone. 

Whether he made a deal with God or not, whether Hell can only contain these unruly roaring demons for a few months, whether Michael isn't Lucifer, that he's the rightful King or not... all this only sounds like the 'truth' to her, all this still remains to be proven, to be contradicted if they're lucky. 

With some research.

Research she wants to do alone this time.

What's the point in telling anyone?

She already knows what everyone would say; said differently for different people, but the message would remain the same disillusion, her heart being stabbed all the same. 

_ That's the way it is, there's nothing you can do. _

She _ can't _ give up. 

Not just because the last week of research has been dead ends after dead ends, not just because Lucifer seems to get used to the situation....

Not just because 'that's the way it is'.

This is them, him - Lucifer, her... her indefinable half - that matters to her. 

"I'd be happy to fill in these language gaps for you Detective," Lucifer whispers with a smirk.

Chloe turns her face slightly towards his, which is closer than she first thought. The gap left between could be filled with just another movement, her thoughts turned intense for this ambiguous offer.

The close sensation of his body could almost overshadow everything else around. She's close to overshadowing everything else around, her senses aroused by the gap. They hadn't been so close, hadn't been together in the same room for so long, for a few days.

Chloe probably wouldn't have seen him until Tuesday night if they hadn't been called on this new murder this afternoon. She'd been quite busy with paperwork about Sanchez's still unresolved case and he'd been as much busy with his club and other things seemingly more important than another 'boring' paperwork session. Checking every available data about the volunteers with Francis' help wasn't a partner's prerogative, as he'd told her on the phone. 

Neither are they prerogatives for her, to be honest, not for the 'results' and 'strong leads' part at least. 

Dan had been right about that; the real murderer had also been smart enough to give a false name and remove any pictures of himself from his personal file. As for surveillance images in the Center, he'd barely been shown in a partial, unusable profile on them. How clever he'd been to use a junkie to do the dirty part...get a good Identikit picture from Francis had been….

Well, it'd been 'interesting', to say the least. 

First, the guy has brown shoulder-length hair. Then red short-hair, grey protruding eyes. But no, his eyes are small, green….

She'd never admit it, but...

Lucifer had been right not to get more involved, even though she would have liked to have him with her anyway.

Chloe had been reluctant to let him attend to his business - whatever it was - but she couldn't keep him around day and night either, not just because these days, these nights, would soon be over.

Her hands soon grow sweaty, latex sticking to them as she'd have liked to touch him, touch his lips, to be able to forget the slightest gap in her life. Her heart beats rhythmically with the panic she knows too well now.

One beat for Hell, for its mysteries that she'd probably never understand. 

Another beat for the time being, passing by again.

The next one is for the present, remaining time. 

Before Tuesday.

"Not sure this woman's beliefs are gonna help us fill in the blanks around her murder…" Dan mumbles. 

"Oh come now, Daniel!" Lucifer exclaims, turning his face away from the Detective's, "This is  _ His  _ day!" 

Chloe coughs as her cheeks turn pink, and then straightens up, "Dan's right. Let's focus on the wolf."

Lucifer's laugh fills the room as his hand brushes his partner's forearm, who quivers with inappropriate and unexpected pleasure under her sleeve, "That's a good one, Detective! Although I'd rather have chosen the 'beast', to fit with the simplistic conception of 'Evil' here." 

Chloe turns to her colleague, "Ella?"

Ella pulls some bloody locks of hair out of the victim's wound, right behind the left ear, "She died from the blow to the head, that's for sure - given the amount of blood on the carpet. Maybe with…" She falls silent for a second, looking at the debris, then at the baseball bat that rolled under the couch, "...a blunt object?" 

She turns the aforesaid object in her hands, the wood polished by years and frequent use revealing a spot with clotted blood a half-turn later. 

Definitely a blunt object.

Lucifer scoffs, "Baseball is definitely _ His  _ thing." 

Chloe's eyebrows rise, "You don't like baseball?" 

"He doesn't like team sports in general…" Dan sighs in the corner, eyes stuck to his notebook.

Lucifer's glare welcomes his provocative comment.

"I have my reasons. Who would like to see such a regrettable _ home run _ anyway?" he murmurs, sincerely sorry for the woman's fate. 

She was so young.

Way too young, younger than Chloe. 

She quietly watches blood trails coming from Jessie Evans' dark hair to her cheek. She's barely 30 years old, no children, working in a minimarket. No close relatives to call. Another blood trail is nearly touching her right open eye; open to this eternal question.

_ Why me?  _

She probably imagines this but… now that she knows, Chloe can well hear this question repeating itself over and over again for the many victims who felt guilty before their death. In their hell loop. 

Would Jessie be the same?

Believe in all this… it doesn't protect you from your twisted feelings.

Kinley knows it doesn't, wherever he's being tortured in Hell.

Chloe's gaze naturally comes back to her partner. 

Could he know if she's down there, too?

She purses her lips, he surely would know - if not here and now, in four months, in Hell. Maybe less if Lucifer's estimation is false. How can they know if Hell, if this 'Lilith' and Michael will be able to rein demons in until he's back? 

This is Hell.

Hell forever bound to Lucifer.

What if something happens? What if Michael wanes someday? Knowing the guy, he could make the task harder for Lucifer, too. What if Lilith gets tired of doing the Devil's job and starts to want more? Something more like the throne? 

_ "Hell was built so that no demon could take control of the throne. Only a celestial could rule. An angel…." _

Well, Chloe and Lucifer were 'built' so that neither could live without the other, without following their  _ needs.  _

Perhaps even more Lucifer than her, a 'simple' miracle desperate to make the Devil stay? 

**_"Not listening to my desires isn't my nature, is it?"_ **

**_"But I also feel so much more."_ **

**_"I want more; for you, for me."_ **

_ More. _

Is she only able to give him whatever he needs, whatever his most darkest desire is? 

A phone ring cuts her thoughts off.

Lucifer takes his out of his inside pocket, then checks who's calling him,  _ not  _ taking the call. 

A smirk appears on Chloe's face, "Don't tell me Maze's still acting up with Lux stocks."

"Oh she wouldn't dare, not after you forced this deal on both of us, Detective! Besides, my apologies were breathtaking enough to have five 'decades' peace."

She can see Dan's skeptical eyebrows rise from here, "She's a lucky weirdo, yeah."

"I'll take the call outside," Lucifer says, which makes Chloe frown.

"Why?"

"It's  _ date _ -related," he answers, walking around Jessie's body.

Chloe ignores Ella's high-pitched squeal near the coffee table. 

" 'Our' date, yes," she replies as Lucifer has already a foot outside, "What are you hiding?" 

"Nothing, Detective. I just want to make it special, that's all." 

Not giving her another chance to distract him, Lucifer walks to the porch, his phone at ear level, away from any eavesdropper inside - dead or alive. 

Ella squeals louder, " _ Oooooh!  _ It's so cute!" 

"Could we just… focus on the body at our feet?" Chloe mutters, embarrassed.

Dan approaches the body, more annoyed than he previously was, "I definitely can."

**-xXx-**

The afternoon isn't yet over that Chloe's annoyance has gotten close to Dan's, although hardly for the same reasons. It escalates as she looks up from her papers. 

"Please tell me you didn't book a hot air balloon or a private jet," she says.

Lucifer looks up from his phone, Chloe's main source of irritation - right after the phone's owner, her ghostly partner of the last few hours of investigation. She gets that the start of new cases isn't always...  _ thrilling _ , past the discovery and researches on the crime scene; the pictures and papers placed here and there all over her desk aren't. 

She also knows that Lucifer isn't the type to stay still for more than five minutes. However, watching him going out to take phone calls, no matter what they were busy with - questioning witnesses, gathering evidence, trying to make links between their statements and the rare surveillance footage they got from traffic cams… it's seriously starting to get on her nerves.

All the more so that he persists in keeping her in the dark.

All the more so that she can't rein in this feeling of panic by questioning, gathering and making links between the few available clues. 

It gets worse as hours go by.

She can't focus on anything, when all she should be thinking about is how best to find the person who did this to this woman.

Nothing had enough power over the Devil.

Nothing Lucifer would do would make the situation 'normal'.

"Book a private jet?" he repeats. "Why would I do such a thing?"

"I don't know. Looks like you hold the reins of 'our' date."

"No 'reins' in the air, trust me on this," he says, his phone back in his pocket after this thirtieth text conversation. 

Chloe arches an eyebrow, to which Lucifer reacts right after sitting on the edge of the desk; "No excessive bookings of any kind, you have my word."

"No hot air balloon?" 

"None. The weather isn't really in line with 'airy' activities anyway."

She smiles. "No private jet?" 

"None that I'm planning to book for the occasion, Detective. I've got three in L.A." 

Watching her eyes widen slightly amuses him, given his smile widening over seconds. 

Yet, he puts his hands in the air, "...and not planning to use any of them." 

Chloe breathes a little easier. Smiling too, she grabs a picture stuck under her partner's buttocks which he slowly lifts for her, his smile even wider. Pulling the photo sharply, she looks away from the temptation. 

"I hope so," she tells him. "I have Trixie all week and I can't ask Maze to keep her longer than a couple of hours."

"Why not ask your ex to keep the little urchin?"

"Because there's 'ex' in the word 'ex'?" 

"A short word moreover, not that it helped the Detective Douche to learn its meaning, did it?" Lucifer points out to her as he takes his flask in his other pocket. Unscrewing its neck despite Chloe's disapproving look, he shrugs, "Well… we can't ask too much from 'mindless idiot', I guess."

Chloe puts the first picture in front of her and takes another one away from her partner. 

She shrugs in turn, her fingers passing over Jessie Evans' lifeless eyes, "It's not so much our…" She hesitates so long that Lucifer has already drunk two or three sips of whisky and screwed the neck back on. Passing a fourth round movement of his fingers around the silver cork, he stares at her quizzically, "--our.. _. relationship _ that’s the problem as the way you left," she manages to say without stumbling over _ the _ word. 

Lucifer's puzzled expression doesn't budge. "You're not planning additional bargained apologies for your ex, are you?"

Chloe rolls her eyes. "Not what I meant, no."

"Good! Calming douches require much more skills than my natural charms can provide."

Natural? She wouldn't put it that way.

Devilish? Yeah, more accurate.

"Although I'm surprised that he missed me at all?" Lucifer continues, frowning. "What should I've done anyway, put a basket of pudding in front of his door with a farewell note?"

"It's not you."

He turns to her, "But you just said that—"

"Yes, it's you. It has something to do with you and your last departure, but-" Chloe sighs deeply, her fingers tapping the edges of the picture repeatedly, "...it's my fault, not yours."

"How so?"

Another sigh crosses her lips as she meets Lucifer's perplexed gaze again. She looks around, making sure there's no eavesdropper nearby, making sure Dan is still busy at his desk - a lonely figure of professionalism that she was finding it harder and harder to respect since she knew the whole truth about Lucifer.

She doesn't even dare to think about the times before, all those strange details that had almost made her cross this crucial line between 'good' and 'evil', between what is allowed or not to do justice to the victims... all those details that had only a single origin; the Devil sitting on her desk. 

That knife that had disappeared from evidence, or when Lucifer showed up 'drunk' at a crime scene - well, now she knows it's literally impossible for him -, drunk or on the verge of passing out, an out of control Devil during murder investigation...

Jeez, he had brought her out of rules since day one!

He had 'kidnapped' their main suspect in a car accident, had given him a gun and organized a western-like duel.

How could she still be surprised that Dan no longer trusts her? 

After all this, after what happened to Charlotte....

What she asked him, back to the temple, it's—

This was a terrible mistake.

"I-I... I asked him to help me cover our tracks at the Mayan temple that night," Chloe confesses, not daring to look at Lucifer. 

She only hears their respective breathing and the brouhaha of the station after that. She lifts her chin eventually, intrigued by his silence, even more surprised by his expression of deep perplexity. 

"Your fingerprints were all over the place," she explains to him. "Mine too, it was... I couldn't hide these bodies, couldn't make them look like mass suicide all by myself. I… I didn't know who else to call."

"You took unnecessary risks, Detective," he finally says.

"I couldn't  _ take  _ the risk of losing my badge, Lucifer," she retorts, annoyed. 

"What I meant was that it would've been better to call Maze instead."

Chloe frowns, "She's a demon, yeah - but I doubt she'd have managed dozens of bodies all by herself, too. Not without drawing attention, at least…." 

"True for the last part," Lucifer admits willingly, tilting his head to the side. "But she'd have definitely helped with the Douche's suspicions about you and me. As a demon, it wouldn't have been the first time she would clean up a hellish mess for me." 

With these words, he takes one of the pictures, mixed interest gleaming in his gaze before he notices his partner's confused one, "Come now, Detective! Arson would have been easier to sell than 'mass suicide', don't you think?" 

"Arson?" Chloe repeats.

"Well, yes, isn't it the best way to destroy unpleasant evidence and yet stick to the facts?"

It might have been best, indeed. If she'd have asked Maze to help her instead of Dan... all they'd have had to do was get rid of the most 'damaged' bodies. As for the corpses left, well....

It isn't strictly a 'bonfire', but—

"Right. That's one way to do it," she admits after a few seconds. 

In her defense, she had a lot of things on her mind that night. Warning Dan had seemed the least worst of them all. Now, in hindsight, something out of Dan's reach; it's like she'd shot herself in the foot. 

"Damn it… I'm so stupid!" she grumbles. 

Lucifer is fast to comfort her,  " Come now, let's save this title for your ex, shall we?" 

"Dan's not 'stupid' enough to let go, Lucifer. He still hasn’t…." 

"Why should we care?" 

Chloe shakes her head, her eyes go back to Dan's desk; empty. Then to the Lieutenant's. She purses her lips, looking at Lucifer, "We should care because he might talk to someone. And I won't blame him for trying." 

Lucifer stares at her for a moment. "Whether he speaks or not, you don't have to  _ speak for _ him, you know? You have every right to feel betrayed." 

"I don't," she instantly replies, "And he won't betray me." 

At least, she hopes not.

Lucifer nods, willing to trust her on this as she keeps trusting a man who had hated her partner since day one, really. He puts the picture back on the desk, his index finger lingering on the broken pieces of their victim's tea set. "I'd like to believe the same, and quite honestly, I have nothing against yet another Devil hunt in the name of my Sacrosanct Father, led by the sacrosanct douche of the precinct moreover. As long as you aren't around; I won't risk your life, nor your spawn's… never." 

He smiles at her; sacrosanct expression of his feelings for her, for her well-being, as much as her daughter's. 

"Anyway, meanwhile your ex's decision, I could just… take things in hand. What do you say?" 

Chloe squints. "By 'hand' you mean 'your hands-hands', right? Too bad, I was just starting to get used to your 'good manners' and 'holy words', really." 

"Actually, I had other bodily extremities in mind," he says, folding his 'hands-hands' on his lap. 

She stares at him. Lucifer raises his thumbs and mimes the awkward flight of a truth perfectly hidden between his shoulder blades. 

Chloe opens her mouth.

"How did you know?" 

Both partners turn their heads towards Ella, arms folded over her chest and a polar bear happily licking an ice cream dripping with melted chocolate on her T-shirt. 

"Know what?" Chloe answers - 'asks' - back.

Her friend shakes her head,  _ "Han han! _ I asked first, Decker - now spit it out, so I can praise you properly!" 

Lucifer laughs, amused, "All the more appropriate in this 'holy' day. You're God's miracle, after all!"

His comment with double meaning annoys the aforesaid miracle even more.

"Ella, how can I even tell you how I knew if I  _ don't know  _ what you're talking about?" she sighs. 

"'Traditional ovation' it is, mh? I was planning a 'Decker-power' choreography but hey... you're the miracle!" Ella complies with a shrug.

Lucifer's smile lights up his whole face, "That right she is."

Chloe does her best to ignore his charming intonation, her 'charmed' body parts too. She ignores the thought following her gaze, first from annoyance, then stopped to his groin, then his hands a bit lower.

The thought, the memory of his hands in her own thighs.

**_"Anywhere, Chloe."_ **

She ignores it.

She's trying.

Trying hard. 

"You were right - because you. are. so. ta-len-ted!" Ella overemphasizes on these last words, "Something was clearly wrong with the tea!"

Lucifer sits up, making Chloe's 'ignorance' easier, "Besides its bitter taste?" 

The Detective smiles, teasing him; "And here I thought you like that…" 

The Devil's lips hesitate between pout and grin; his gaze, between revolt and desire.

She looks at him. For a long time.

She should stop.

"Whatever it tastes, this would've been the least of Jessie's problems if she'd drunk any."

Chloe looks away, frowning, "So she didn't?" 

Lucifer smirks, "It would seem that the Sacrosanct Douche up there spared her quite unpleasant aftertaste at death's doors." 

"And not just any aftertaste!" Ella adds. "Which brings us back to you Chloe, you and your unmatched sixth sense." 

Waving her arm exaggeratedly, she places the folded paper on the desk, then working her shoulders so that it fits with her singing ovation, " _ Decker-power ooooon, go on and wooooon!" _

Chloe reads what's written on the paper, raising her head shortly after to Ella, who's still dancing around her desk, "Tetrodotoxin?" 

She spins around and clicks her fingers, "Yeah! So?  _ How _ did you know?" 

Lucifer takes the paper from the desk, frowning, "Isn't this the same substance that shortened our previous victim's life?"

Chloe nods, "Mrs Sanchez, yes." 

"Looks like our man is keeping himself busy," Lucifer adds, putting the paper back in place. 

" 'Keeping killing'," Chloe whispers. 

"How did you know?" Ella repeats for the third time. 

Chloe sighs, shakes her head, "I didn't. It's just... another first-degree murder in East Los in less than two weeks, it's…." 

"It's a sign that you're awesome, Decker-girl!" Ella congratulates her with a slight punch to Chloe's shoulder, who smiles. 

"Thanks." 

"This one is nothing like his 'first', Detective," Lucifer suddenly says.

She looks at him, himself busy looking at the many pictures of the crime scene. His expression is so much more focused than the last few hours, more like the Devil seeking justice than like her partner seeking distraction. 

More immortal than human.

She starts to imagine this same expression in a more 'hellish' context.

She imagines the King in action.

Another kind of shiver runs between her shoulder blades.

"What do you mean?" 

"Look at all this mess. This doesn't look like our suspect; he was much more in the details with his first murder. Things didn't turn out the way he hoped. Well, we never feel the same as we did with our 'first', do we?" he adds; the previous royal presence fading away with his proud, broad smile. 

Chloe takes a closer look at the pictures too. Now that she knows that the two murders are linked for a detail, others - looking useless at first - might emerge and give an even stronger lead. 

One picture after another, she thinks over the last crime scene, goes through the intriguing details around the poisoning. 

One poisoned by a third party.

The other one _ almost  _ poisoned... by someone else, too? 

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Francis had poured the poison when Penelope was still in the Center and then followed her to make sure she was okay - full of remorses. He had lost her in the street a few minutes later and, feeling even more guilty, had turned back to a fast-food restaurant where he had heard the news hours later.

The video footage from the restaurant proved his innocence, for the rest, even though most of the crime had been... _ his _ doing. 

The cross under Penelope's eye.

Water mixed with sodium chloride around her head, face to the ground. 

Chloe didn't see any of this at Jessie Evans' place.

But this murder was 'messy', as Lucifer said. 

It had turned into another kind of murder, a lot messier than intended. 

Maybe Jessie saw him pour the poison and fought back?

Maybe they knew each other? From before?

"What about the rest? 'Found anything else?" she asks Ella.

Turning her head, she sees her friend shaking hers, "Just that the time of death almost matches with the 911 team's arrival. Jessie's neighbors reacted pretty fast." 

"It matches, really?" Chloe repeats. "How much exactly?"

Ella shrugs, "So much so that our guy would've been caught if he'd stayed sixty seconds more? But he's  _ gonna  _ be caught, _ "  _ she adds convincingly. "Because  _ Decker-power is ooooo—" _

"As much as I appreciate the tune, Miss Lopez, you should seriously reconsider the lyrics of the chorus;" Lucifer cuts her off. 

"Sixty seconds earlier and we'd have got him locked in jail forever…" Chloe whispers, annoyed. 

Lucifer turns to her with a smile, "Well, if it makes you feel any better, Detective... I think our suspect is a lot more frustrated than you are."

Chloe stares at him, confused.

"You have spoiled his fun," Lucifer says. "Being so abruptly interrupted while his first time was so perfect…. Surely, he must be climbing the walls by now!"

Chloe sits up, eyebrows rising and mouth opened. It makes sense, especially since the poison hadn't been used as originally planned by their suspect. Nothing happened as he'd planned; the tetrodotoxin, slow death by suffocation and paralysis, the rest of his M.O.

In addition to the unexpected, the unfinished had followed.

It's double or nothing, but....

Given the first murder, given its details....

There's a small chance that—

"You're right," she says. 

She meets Lucifer's gaze.

"Shouldn't we make it up to him, then?" 

He arches an eyebrow, "What's on your mind?"

"Private performance?"

Lucifer doesn't take long to understand what she means by that, enthusiasm sparkling in his eyes as he smiles at her, "Brilliant idea! It will require some preparations, but this soul in torment deserves all these efforts, doesn't he?"

Ella, who has watched them all along, listened to each answer and deduction from one partner to the other, makes a noise between a squeal and a fond sigh, her hands pressed against the polar bear fond of chocolate ice-cream, " _ Haaaaan!  _ 'Never think this possible but… watching you both exchanging words that would sound nonsensical for anyone else and yet finding some sense in them… This is cute as ever!" __

Ella's hands clap in rhythm with her song,  _ "Deckerstaaaaaaar, star piercing the sk—!" _

Moving hips and shoulders in rhythm as well, she's nevertheless stopped by Lucifer's raised hand, "You just reminded me why karaoke is proscribed in my club, dear." 

Chloe stands up and sees that Dan has just come back. “I’m gonna call the officers back from the crime scene and ask Dan to watch Trixie for the night.”

“How about reminding him what ‘ex’ means as well, Detective?” Lucifer exclaims in her back, then sighing, “Do-.... Okay, how about you stop hugging me like bloody anaconda, Miss Lopez?”

Chloe's amused smile starts to fade as her steps bring her closer to her ex's desk, who doesn't look up from his laptop, not even when her presence near the staircase is plenty noticeable. "Hey, Dan."

"Chloe."

"Are you busy right now? I need you to do something for me," she asks him, brushing her palms together. 

Dan sighs and moves his chair aside to face her, "Go ahead."

"Could you keep Trixie tonight?" 

He raises his eyebrows, surprised. He sits up, both hands on the arms of the chair, his expression changing instantly, "Oh." 

"I know it's my week, but-.... We're gonna have a stakeout, at the victim's house. There's a small chance that our man comes back on the crime scene, so... It might last longer than expected, as you know. I'll probably be back home at 7 next morning," Chloe explains.

"Sure, no problem. It's… for the best, I guess." He smiles; a tense smile as he rubs his hands, "I wouldn't have liked spending the night on my own, anyway." 

Chloe frowns, staring at him. He keeps rubbing his hands, first avoiding her gaze, then looking for it; "Tonight is... it'll be…."

His gaze comes back to his desk, to the photo frame on the left - Charlotte Richards' lost smile, Dan's - lost, too. 

That's when Chloe gets it.

"Oh, Dan… I-I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't realize that… that it'll be a year tonight." 

She'd been so annoyed by his behavior over the past few weeks that she hadn't even asked herself why he'd been more aggressive in the past few days. Neither did she ask when he came to pick up Trixie on Friday evening, when he barely spoke to her and cut off her questions about his private life.

She only thought of herself, of his obsession to piss Lucifer off. 

She didn't even think—

Chloe chews on her bottom lip, "I can ask someone else to watch over Trixie, if you'd rather... Maze's on a hunt, but I—"

Dan stands up and gathers his papers into a file, "No, no. It'll be fine, don't worry. Besides... I don't mind keeping our daughter away from your boyfriend's weird sidekicks for a while. You know... with the last unexplained events."

"Maze would never hurt Trixie, Dan."

"I'd like to believe that; just like I'd like to believe that Lucifer's not a bad guy, but…." 

He sighs heavily.

Chloe looks over her shoulder. Lucifer is busy showing Ella pictures on his phone, one nodding in approval, the other smiling at every comment she makes - far, so far away from the 'bad guy' analogy.

Far from what Dan thinks to know about him.

She turns back, moving a hand towards him, "Look, I know you're angry with me about the temple, but whatever you think happened there is more complicated than it seems, Lucifer is more complicated than he seems, but certainly not 'bad'." __

"Maybe. Or maybe it's you who sees more in him than he really is," Dan replies. "As always, as with Charlotte's murder."

"Dan, Lucifer had nothing to do with—"

"I know." Dan runs a hand over his face, sighing again, "I know he's not as responsible as I'd like him to be. But he  _ knew! _ He knew who Pierce was long before Ch—" 

His voice breaks, his gaze lost in the past as Chloe averts hers, the loss shimmering into his being too much for her. 

He gulps, eyes to the ground, "I'm trying to get over this, to move on. I _ really  _ am _ , _ Chloe."

"I know."

"But I won't be able to do so without answers. Why didn't he say anything? Why didn't  _ you _ tell me about that night at the temple?" 

Chloe's mouth sets in a hard line, "I can't answer that, Dan." 

Her answer, which isn't exactly one, upsets him more, "Well then… you'll understand that I can't let Trixie spend more time with a potential mass murderer."

Chloe frowns, more annoyed than sorry by the situation. 

She folds her arms on her chest, raising her chin defiantly, "Too bad, because she did spend time with him. Long times." 

"What?"

"Lucifer came by the other night. You know... our 'Taco's Tuesday night that you skipped?" 

"Seriously, Chloe?!" Dan whispers angrily. "You're completely out of your mind!" 

"Lucifer's  _ not _ a murderer, Dan!"

"Tell that to Pierce."

Shocked that he would bring up Pierce's case to support his absurd behavior, Chloe takes a deep breath, her fingernails digging into her shirt sleeve so that she doesn't do anything too rash in response, "It was self-defense, and you know it." 

"It's the only thing I fucking know!" he exclaims. 

She approaches him, dragging him away from his desk behind the stairs, away from supernatural and human eavesdroppers. Some colleagues are already starting to stare at them, including Lucifer and Ella. 

"Don't play that card with me!" she retorts, as much furious as he is. "It's more than I ever knew with Malcolm and the Palmetto case." 

Dan shakes his head, raising his finger, "Don't use Palmetto to support your secrets, Chloe!"

"Why? Because you're the only one who's allowed to have some?!"

"Because it's _not_ the same thing!" 

"Isn’t it?"

He nods, "I wasn't part of Malcolm's scheming! Turned a blind eye to it? Maybe. But I didn't hesitate to stop him when he was ready to kill you! Not once."

"Right… my 'hero'!" Chloe says bitterly. 

“I turned myself in! I did the right thing when the situation demanded it."

"When it was too late, yeah."

Dan falls silent, hurt, aware that it hadn't stopped his former partner from kidnapping his daughter, endangering Chloe and others in the chaotic path of this tormented soul who had been released from Hell for the sole purpose of bringing Lucifer back to where he 'belonged'. 

Chloe finds this kinda ironic.

A fanatical priest was all it takes to bring the Devil back in Hell, in the end.

What a cliche.

"Right," Dan admits, quieter. "I reacted too late." 

He looks at her.

"I don't want this to happen to you, too. Trust me, Chloe, you don't wanna live this kind of shit...."

Chloe shakes her head, her throat tight, "This is different. You have to believe me, Dan." 

He nods, "Then give me something to believe in. And if you really can't, well... at least let me get to believe that I still know what's best for my child." 

She lets him go back to his desk without a word, with no other choice than to believe like the others that the Devil is only good at doing evil, only good at spreading chaos wherever he goes. 

Maybe it's true.

Her life had never been as chaotic as it's been since she met him.

Yet, Chloe only feels grounded in reality, in this world torn between the logic of some and the apocalyptic chaos of others, when she's with the man who'd caused it all.

The same man who's smiling at her, stability into her chaotic, 'normal' life, as she joins him, "Ready to go, Detective?"

She nods.

Lucifer stands up, adjusting his cuffs, then the lapels of his jacket, "Lovely. The sooner we solve this case, the sooner I can get back to preparations."

Chloe smiles, picking up her car keys in the drawer, "No yacht either?"

Before Lucifer could reassure her - or worry her, 'depends on the Devil's answers and mood - Ella shakes her head, bouncing up and down, "Oh, no, no! It's _so much_ _better_ than one hundred yachts!"

While Chloe stares at her friend, Lucifer glares at her.

"Miss Lopez—"

The latter raises her hands, then mimes a key turned between her closed yet curved lips about whatever she knows for Lucifer's plans.

The Devil's forehead creases even more. 

"Yup! Don't worry, Luci-Juan! These lips are sealed!" Ella promises him, although her thrilled intonation is quite worrying.

"Thank you," Lucifer tells her; as much annoyed by the diminutive as Ella's intervention.

"I'll just say... you've found your gem, Decker!" she adds, elbowing the Detective. "The Devil is a hopeless romantic!"

Lucifer's expression changes instantly, "I beg your pardon?!"

Chloe could've sworn she saw him blush the second before; it's hard to tell. Probably her eyes playing tricks on her. 

Hands in the air again, Ella walks back to her lab, a broad smile on her 'almost' sealed lips, "If you really are the Devil, of course!" 

"I am!"

She rolls her eyes, "Sure. Whatever. See you, Deckerstar, _ staaa—" _

The rest of the melody gets lost inside the lab. 

Chloe turns towards Lucifer, definitely redder than he's supposed to be. Anger, embarrassment, his devil-form... it's still hard to tell.

"Romantic, hm?" she teases him.

He avoids her gaze.

_ "Devil-ish _ , Detective," he corrects her. "Shall we go?" 

Not waiting for her approval, he turns back and hurriedly walks towards the exit, the back of his neck still showing red signs of possible romanticism. Or devilish form, who knows? 

Chloe follows the Devil's red path with a grin and much less flushed skin.

**Tbc**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big, big chapter, phew!
> 
> It's starting to be an habit, isn't it? 
> 
> Chapter 14 will come slower than I expected (I realized I was taking it the wrong way after 1700 words, I'm busy re-writing it from the start ><), just enough time to re-motivate myself (I hope it won't take weeks, like you did). 
> 
> Also, more work for me IRL (damn COVID-19 crisis!) so I really don't when I'll be able to write for the next weeks. I keep faith in Lucifer, though!


	14. It's all about the details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer & Chloe on a stakeout - hellish stuff, besides their suspect to catch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! (what? Not yet? Yes, well... I'm kinda busy tomorrow at the same time as everyone else :D We're not going to quibble!)
> 
> What? Ah, the "I write everything, then I come back"?  
> Let's just say I've had my fill. It did help me for a while, but only for a while. Exactly. From time to time, my needs change and will probably change again in the future. Currently, I'm in a phase of "continuous sharing and writing without a triple safety net".  
> That's the phase that works the best and longest with me. I hope that everyone will benefit from it - I already do: I'm very happy to be able to write again some news and social stuff before the story that we are all obsessed with here X)
> 
> Small (big, in fact - VERY big) thanks to Alindorie for her continuous support out of publication these last few months, for having dealt with my doubts for chapters re-written three times, at least (can't wait chapter 19, do you? XDDD). Also small/huge thanks to OkamiShadou98 for our night talks about my ideas and doubts as well, as for checking my spelling.  
> You're so so so great :3
> 
> Warning - this chapter contains a sexually explicit scene. 
> 
> Music;  
> Do it for me' | Rosenfeld.  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/34vCWXqZ0NkVJEiBlbJHoA

**IT'S ALL ABOUT THE DETAILS**

14

* * *

  
  


_The dogs bark, but the caravan goes on._

Chloe smiles once the barking has passed, gone in the night, further than she can hear clearly. It widens with the direction taken by her gaze, the brown caravan parked in the garden of the house next door, the tires almost entirely hidden by the weeds. 

She likes the double meaning of the proverb, a variable judgment of a stubborn person. The strength to do what is necessary in spite of the many obstacles put in your way by others. 

The proverb encourages people to be cautious, to have self-confidence too. 

That's how she interprets it anyway.

After the noisy interlude through the irrevocably quiet darkness, Chloe comes back to her drowsy state. Her eyes not quite shut, not quite opened, numb from the shoulders to the ankles, but still moving on her seat which slightly swings between 'comfortable sleep' and 'future sore muscles'. She lifts her hips a bit, winces the same as soon as she feels her buttock muscles awaken in a rough straight line. 

She'd make sure to wear loose fitting clothes instead of tight jeans and a breezy grey shirt the next time she went on a stakeout. At this time of night, no one - not even the suspects - would criticize her for wearing pajamas on duty, would they?

Her numb buttocks back on her seat, she turns her head towards her partner's chuckle. "What?" 

"You groan as you snore," he says, each word followed by another chuckle which he tries to shut up with a sudden, faked cough. "I've come to wonder if you moan the same…."

She squints, not the best tactic to keep her eyes opened while waiting for their suspect, though. 

"That's the third time you've accused me of snoring without concrete proof." 

"Oh, but I can provide you with some! _"_ His phone out of his jacket pocket, he clicks on video mode. "Just wait five more minutes and it won't be a problem anymore."

She purses her lips for a second. "You know that my gun is close at hand, right?" 

For her subtle threat, Lucifer's smile isn't. "That would only be the second time you've shot me during night operations. You do know that 'shoot' is also an expression, don't you?"

Chloe smiles in turn, her attention back to the house. 

"That would even the score."

"I'd rather spend this stakeout getting bored stiff and emptying my flask, thank you very much."

Chloe won't contradict him on the first part, but definitely will for the second. A simple glare would suffice, for no one can stop Lucifer from drinking on duty, although she'd have thought he'd be more cautious in terms of quantities near her.

But maybe that's what he likes?

More sensations, faster, by being mortal. 

Her gaze on him is more curious than annoyed as he takes a first long sip from his flask, his phone already back in one of his suit pockets. How his flask seems always full, always within easy reach for the Devil's thirst of action - she'll never know.

"There's a third option," Chloe suggests after the second sip.

He moves the flask away from his lips, an inch away from drinking again if the option reaches a higher level of boredom than the initial situation. He looks at her hesitantly. "Sex at work is still proscribed, isn't it?" 

Chloe rolls her eyes. "A _fourth_ 'professionally reasonable' option." 

Lucifer lets out an exclamation between mockery and disappointment before bringing the flask back to his lips for a long sip of resignation. 

"We could talk about Hell," Chloe continues. "About what will wait for you down there?"

He stares at her. "Shouldn't we 'live for today'?"

"Live for today will only be possible if we talk about this, Lucifer." 

He sighs, his fingers playing with the still open cap of his flask. "Hell is undoubtedly a 'professionally reasonable’ topic. Whatever awaits me down there is... similar to whatever I left - demons to rule, souls to torment, time to spend... to get as _bored_ on my throne." 

"Aren't you afraid that-..." Chloe starts, not knowing how to phrase the rest.

Lucifer arches an eyebrow. "That what?"

"I don't know. There are just... just some things that bother me," Chloe whispers as she looks out the window. 

"What things?" 

She shrugs.

"I still don't understand how you're supposed to survive longer in Hell. Eight months is…." She breathes in, closes her fist. "How long is it?" she continues, turning to him. "A thousand years down there? More? And you seem as clueless as I am about it, so.…" Loose fist on her thigh, she smiles at him. "Yeah, it bothers me." 

He smiles back at her, with that genuine smile that couldn't last.

"So it seems! Well... I am indeed 'clueless' in this regard, but I think we can trust my Father and His compulsive need to control my life. He wouldn't have accepted more time than I could actually endure without your charming company. But thank you for trusting my assessment, Detective!" he adds, sounding falsely hurt. 

She shakes her head.

"Hell isn't you, Lucifer. You're mortal, more vulnerable there now that we are... 'bound'. Speaking of, I-" She frowns. "I'm still trying to understand how I - a miracle that makes the Devil mortal just by being close to him - could make you feel… 'stronger' now." 

"I'm the Devil, darling. 'Stronger' isn't _strong_ enough to define any physical abilities of mine," he contradicts her with a hint of pride. 

Just a hint, she's lucky he's not swaggering about it. Yet.

For a second, Chloe is brought back to another night, the first 'professionally reasonable' night after her flight to Europe. Lucifer had held a car at full speed with just one hand, which had been shot.. because she had been there. 

A shiver digs into the space between her shoulders and the back of her seat.

Strong, yes.

It's a weak word.

"But you could be wrong," she insists. 

He welcomes her words with an outraged expression. She lifts her hand from her thigh, stopping his protests. "Not for Hell and its… expiration date. I'm still talking about you here. The deterioration of your condition."

"Sorry, was there a question?"

"You can't leave Hell for more than four earthly months, fine, but... wouldn't it be easier to alternate shorter periods between the two? Like... the week with me on Earth and the weekend in Hell?"

Chloe's mouth shuts soon after. It sounds like shared custody, doesn't it?

Is she seriously trying to share the Devil with Hell?

Hell is a place, not a person!

"And miss the best parties at Lux?" Lucifer exclaims.

Chloe pinches her lips. "I'm serious, Lucifer."

"So am I, Detective," he replies. "Weekends can be more fun than Disney's torments with your offspring, you know?" Noticing her gaze, he adds, "It's not easier, it's impossible."

"Why?" 

"For starters, going back and forth as frequently between each plan could defile my reputation, my authority. Mine and Michael's, Lilith's too." 

That name again... 

"Demons may see this as a new sign of weakness. I control the Gates of Hell, its functioning, but demons…" Lucifer pauses, shaking his head with a grin, "Demons only follow fear, only those who are 'stronger' than them, Detective. If I'd leave the place too often, for shorter times... to be with a human, moreover... even my deepest desire to rule them wouldn't be enough."

"If that's what might happen for just a few days, what will it be in three months?" 

Lucifer shakes his head once more, "You're not looking at the problem from the right perspective." 

"Either your absence is a problem or it's not!"

And if it isn't a problem now, for nearly a month on Earth, well…. 

There is a chance that he might stay longer, right? Chloe clings to this possibility as she's clinging to the steering wheel; to the point of bending the leather under her fingers to her will. 

Her gaze clings to Lucifer's sigh. 

"What would you think of the Lieutenant if she only came by once a week, stayed for an hour or two and left before the end of your service? What would you think of her if it became regular as clockwork?" 

Chloe thinks for a moment, at first tempted to say that she would make do with it, that her work wouldn't change, nor would her investment in it. After all, with her 'troubled' past and her intimate relationship with the previous Lieutenant, she doesn't give a damn about anyone else's opinion of her work. 

Still, she would wonder why this person would've been chosen to lead if he or she wasn't able even to remain at her post.

"I'd think she doesn't care," Chloe admits. "That she hasn't her place here, or mine... if it would affect my work."

"Precisely. What if she had to leave for... let's say a maternity leave of several weeks after introducing her substitute to you?" Lucifer continues and she notices a gleam in his gaze, a schemer gleam maybe. 

Here again, Chloe could claim that she wouldn't show any respect for a substitute. Yet…. 

Yet, this respect depends above all on an instinctive comparison with one leader next to the other; each other's competence to lead, to support or discipline.

If the substitute is trustworthy, she would accept his authority. There's a good chance that she would respect the Lieutenant even more for having chosen someone as competent as she is to replace her. Otherwise, she would eagerly wait for her boss's return and would appreciate her leadership all the more. 

In the best case-scenario, no one would want to disappoint their boss and would do everything possible to have their work done perfectly, that it looks to her like she never left the precinct. 

Chloe nods. "I see." 

"Here's how you craftly use your authority over others, Detective. The fear of disappointing me, whether I'm actually down there or not. Or the fear to upset me; which is all the same, I guess." He looks at her. "What would there be to fear from an itinerant King, hm?"

"But don't you fear that your 'substitutes' look like better rulers, eventually? Because they're in Hell while you're not?" 

"They can't replace me for good," Lucifer says confidently. "Not anymore." 

Not an answer.

"So you trust your brother?" 

Lucifer scoffs. His right leg bent - too tall for the small space of her car, even with the seat as far back as it can go - as high as the gear shift, he places his hand there, mechanically rubbing the anthracite fabric from knee to mid-thigh. "I'll be damned, no! I trust his pride, though."

Chloe presses her lips together, holding her apprehensions between them.

"Well, that's comforting," she murmurs. 

He chuckles. 

"What I mean is that my brother is convinced to serve a higher purpose, Father's obviously. How original!" he mutters with wrinkled nose. "In any case, Michael has always thought that he was better than all of us in predictable servility." He raises his hand from his thigh. "If none of his fellow siblings is worthy of his _glorious_ presence... well, I doubt that his fallen brother's demonic legions will ever be." 

Right.

Angel pride, hm? She hadn't looked at the problem from this angle. If Michael is as arrogant as narcissistic Lucifer can be.... 

Chloe's eyebrows rise slightly as she tries to imagine their relationship before he became King, before his fall. 

Another topic to dig further into later. 

"Okay. Okay…" she repeats, her gaze staying on their victim's house. "What about Lilith, then? She'd have some interest in taking on more power than she already has, as the 'Mother of Demons'." She shrugs. "I'm surprised she's even willing to help you, given her history with your Father. With male authority in general."

Lucifer's eyebrows rise. "If I didn't know your non-believer basis, I'd swear you peered into the Kabbalah."

"I've done... research," Chloe admits. 

Tons of research; varied for their answers, on the new following questions. 

Lucifer chuckles. "How professional of you. But no, Lilith couldn't care less about stepping on my toes, Detective. That and these bloody ashes…."

"Because Kabbalah is wrong?" 

"Not entirely. Lilith had been indeed the first to deal with Adam's congenital thickheadness, as Dad's orders. It's all about the details, really."

"But the general idea is that she's her own boss and can't stand inter-species misogyny," Chloe cuts him off.

Lucifer stares at her, exclaiming, "Is it just me, or are you implying that I'm a universal misogynist?" 

She opens her mouth, yet he doesn't give her time to explain. Or apologize, because... yes, in retrospect, maybe she'd painted a gloomier picture of him than he merits. 

Blame Hell - gloomy place and topic. 

"I never thought less of any woman only because they didn't have a bloody penis between their legs! Never," he continues vehemently - virtuous Devil, thousands-year-old fighter for women's rights. 

Chloe places her hand on his arm, waiting for him to finish his feminist tirade to draw his gaze to hers, his pouting mouth to her smile. 

"That's not what I meant." She presses her words with additional pressure on the fabric, around his forearm, between the elbow and the wrist.

"Really, it's not," she continues. "I... I just don't understand how you can trust her, given her history with God. After all... you're His son. That kind of bond - even if they no longer exist," she adds, noticing the tension under her palm, "... it'd be enough for a lot of people." 

"Our histories are _enough_ to trust each other," he says.

And she wants to believe that. She really does, but—

Mother of the Demons, Lilith, Rebellious First Woman, necessary _assistance_ \- those words never cease to invade her mind, to silence any impartiality. Lucifer reads doubts - and she undoubtedly has some - into her silence and adds, "God rejected her, just as He rejected me; because we both rejected His authority head-on. We are both the first rebels in History. We have this _strong_ bond between us, this respect for each other."

He lifts his shoulder in a half shrug, smiling at Chloe who lets her hand slide down the fabric of his jacket to her own thighs, where she closes her fists and digs her nails in her palms. 

"See? Nothing to worry about."

Still, she does worry.

Relaxing her hand, Chloe rubs it back and forth - just like Lucifer did earlier. It takes three thoughtful back and forth movements to overcome the irritation that her nails just caused. Still, it would take more than mechanical strokes to soothe the rest. More questions are already clashing in her head.

How 'strong' is that bond?

Is it a kind of... intimate bond, perhaps?

Between Lucifer and the Mother of.. Maze's mother, actually.

Chloe holds back a shiver, rubbing her shoulders just as mechanically under Lucifer's gaze.

"Are you cold? Is there even a heating system in police cars?" he asks, leaning towards the dashboard plunged in the dark. 

She shakes her head. "I'm good. You... you said 'for starters'. Is there another reason?" 

"There is, yes. You experienced it quite closely when I came back." To her frown, he points at her hands, still at shoulders level, yet still on the folds of her shirt. "When _I_ was cold? In your bathroom?" 

Chloe stared at him no less. Her hands gently lower at elbow level. "I remember. Still can't see how it prevents a shorter time in Hell, though."

"It does because you don't come and go from Hell to Earth and vice versa as any room of your place, Detective. We're talking about two planes of existence that are fundamentally different in many details, as insignificant as major ones."

"Such as?"

"Such as the time going differently, the change of air, of temperatures. Leaving Hell for Los Angeles is…" He briefly looks for words, finding them in the glove box, judging by his gaze fixed on it. "...it's like walking out of a cave after having spent an eternity in the dark, stuck between two unfinished sensations of heat, freezing cold, hunger, thirst... If the hell-loops make time go round in circles, Detective; it feels like it stops for good anywhere else down there." 

"I thought it was going slower?"

He nods.

"So bloody slowly that it would almost stop. That's... that's the feeling coming out of it, anyway. My feeling. And when I come back here, well... everything feels—"

"Too much?" Chloe helps him. 

Lucifer nods again, gesturing at her hands with his chin. "It always takes me a while to get used to this other pace, these details." 

"That's why you couldn't warm up on your own, why you slept that long..." Chloe murmurs, recalling Lucifer's reactions once he had come into her apartment.

It hadn't just been strictly physical sensations. 

Lucifer being... Lucifer, she hadn't been worried either about seeing him 'playing' with objects as soon as he came into a room - actually, if one didn't know him as the actual Devil, it might have looked like some kind of OCD. 

And there had been that other time, when he'd officialized his return at the precinct, how he had talked to everyone; never alone, never quiet. She'd thought it was him, classically theatrical, but—

It was just… just adjustments to Earth time.

"You make it sound like I'm this naive princess in your spawn's books - the one who had a strange addiction to needles," he says with a smile close to an outraged grimace.

"These adjustments… how much time does it take?"

Lucifer purses his lips, his forehead wrinkled with reflection. "Being the King, and an angel, it's usually shorter than for any other demon like Mazikeen or Lilith. But… it seems longer now that-... well, you know." He cocks his head to the side. "When I left Hell I was _weaker_ already, so… takes days, a week maybe, to fully recover."

Chloe swallows.

The tight knot in her throat only increases after this.

"A week…" she repeats, her words barely audible. 

Their eyes met; resignation for the slow suffocation of her foolish hopes of any alternative.

"Now you understand how impossible your proposition is," he whispers.

His light tone doesn't reach his lips. 

The knot initially stuck in Chloe's throat reaches her belly, a heavy stone that neatly crushes her next words, "Yes... I do."

Accepting it, tough?

Impossible.

**-xXx-**

Staying alert all night also seems impossible. 

At best, Chloe is distracted. 

Distracted by her thoughts about Hell, Lilith and the impossibility of keeping Lucifer here, as she would have wanted; distracted by her numb muscles as minutes first, then hours, pass. Her hands are indeed resting on the investigation file, her thumb is indeed supported by her index finger on the back of the file, yet…. 

Yet, it's starting to be a distracted feeling.

At worst, Chloe is on the verge of agreeing with Lucifer. She keeps her long sighs and sniffles at the limit of the sound he is so keen to hear and record. 

Until the file starts to tilt forward on her distracted knees.

Lucifer restores balance with one hand before she has time to pass the slight startle between wakefulness and torpor, before the papers fall at her feet. With a smile, he watches her rub her eyes and puts the rescued file on the dashboard. "Sounds like my favorite show is early!"

"Mhm?" Chloe mumbles, still busy rubbing her left eye. "W't sh'w?" 

"Albanian field wench & Co."

She gives him a half-glare, rubbing her eye one last time while sitting up on her seat. Her lips twisted in a grimace, she releases the few strands of hair stuck in the headrest with her hand. 

"Still have my gun," she reminds him.

"Still up for another penetration of yours," he replies.

She snorts, her hand still resting at the back of her neck as she rubs the knot of discomfort there. Her gaze naturally stops on the digital clock. 

3:05 AM.

Monday morning.

Her thumb slows down on her skin, her gaze coming back to Lucifer, her thoughts... distracted by another kind of penetration. 

More conventional, in a way.

Well... the one penetrating isn't. The one penetrated? A bit more.

Chloe's hand lowers with her long breath that doesn't blow the starting fire in her cheeks and neck. It probably feels warm because she has just been rubbing her neck in search of sore muscles.

Probably that.

It's coming soon, less than two days... their….

Their intimate dinner.

Of that, she only knows when it'll be, just that she can't control her thoughts from the very first conscious one about it. She breathes in again, glancing at Lucifer.

But it's all about details, isn't it? Details, that's what she needs to... just stop thinking the worst.

Why does she only think the worst?

Chloe gently shakes her head, pinching her lips. "Speaking of 'penetration'...." 

Lucifer turns his head, she avoids moving towards him at all.

"How is it that Ella can _penetrate_ the secrets of our date while I can't?" 

"Still jealous?" he teases her with a smirk.

She shakes her head.

"Still wondering. Why discuss this so much with her and not me? You're dating me, not her."

"Precisely, Detective."

She arches an eyebrow.

"I thought it more prudent to ask Miss Lopez's opinion, who, as you so rightly stated, isn't the one I plan to be more intimate with. It's strategy," he explains. "That and to spare you the details."

"Strategy?"

"Yes. Giving you the details hadn't worked well so far, had it? I'm only trying to follow your instructions!" he pleads. "Avoid dramatic interruptions, manipulations, and silly male displays - your words, dear." 

Chloe sits up, frowning.

"Is it just me or are you implying that our previous failed dates... were on _me_?" she exclaims.

As she straightens from one side, Lucifer seems to shrivel up on the other. "Well, I—" 

" _You_ didn't show up to the first one!" 

"True, but—" 

"And one of _your_ past conquests ruined the second," Chloe immediately adds, two fingers raised for two bitter failures.

"How was I supposed to know that Jana—"

She lifts a third finger. "Let's skip the third one about 'how I can prove I'm better than Marcus', but the last one–!'

Finger bent, not raised yet for the factual accusation of his fails to woo her so far, Chloe's outburst bends as well. Between these very fingers, she relives a fiasco that was indisputably her own doing.

She relives the vial, the glass of wine.

Lucifer and his vulnerability that had prevented a second attempt, which would have been her fault, for sure.

Chloe swallows, lowering this third finger still bent halfway down her palm, lowering the two previous ones after it. "Maybe not the last one," she whispers. 

She slightly flinches in her seat when, two seconds later, Lucifer's fingers intertwine with hers, relaxing the old guilt from thumb to pinkie. It's only when this one is intertwined with his that their eyes meet, that he smiles, like he never does with anyone else. A smile all hers, theirs. 

"There's no need to turn tonight darker, Detective." 

She smiles in turn, clutching their fingers together.

Lucifer follows the movement, discrete pressure given how much stronger it could have been. 'Strong' isn't strong enough to express what she feels.

"You know I no longer blame you for this, don't you? It's all behind us," he says without taking his eyes off her.

She nods.

"Behind us," she repeats before lifting their joined hands to her lips. She kisses their knuckles, her cheek pressed against it a second later. "It is, yes. All the more reasons not to take them as an example for planning the next one."

Their fingers spread apart, Lucifer's closer to her cheek than they have been before. Chloe's fingers stay around his hand, while his follow the curve of her face, from the corner of her eye to her jaw. 

"All the more reasons to trust me and tell me everything, too," Chloe continues. 

Lucifer laughs, his smile widening. "What if I prefer to keep it a surprise?" 

"I hate surprises."

Lucifer's thumb comes back on the curve of her right cheek, light circles, as light pressure on her skin. 

"I hate not being in charge," Lucifer replies, his gaze fixed in hers; unwavering. "It would seem that we're at a dead-end." With these words, his gaze lingers briefly over her shoulder, towards the street plunged into darkness. "Both literally and figuratively."

She smiles, close to laugh as her fingers move lower, as low as his sleeves allow them to. 

"Being in a relationship implies compromises, Lucifer."

He arches an eyebrow, his breath deeper under Chloe's touch, with her hand wrapped around his cufflink. "Is it, now? How so?" 

The space between her face and his is so thin that she could almost predict his next breath, when it would tickle her skin and where. The pressure of Lucifer's fingers has changed, now pressed behind her ear. 

She shivers.

"I could review my definition of 'professionally reasonable' options…."

"Oh, do go on!"

"And you could review your definition of 'surprise' date?" 

He breathes in, his eyes lower - almost shut when looking at him so closely - on her lips, his nose brushing against hers. "It depends on your definition of 'unreasonable'."

Chloe gives him the first words of it the second his eyes come back to find hers once more, when the unreasonable is overcome with a kiss. She feels his shiver under her palm, that touch of provocation on the tip of his tongue, an inhaled breath, stolen from between his lips, which he then tries to catch. 

A quick yet incomplete definition on the Devil's parted lips. "So unreasonable."

"Lucifer...."

"Mh?" he whispers, eyes shut.

He opens them, his hand almost to the point of tearing off the first button of a long, too long series of obstacles to such reasonable compromise. The desire blazing in his eyes, his lips neither too far apart nor close enough to Chloe's, his breath touching her chin; deep, quick. 

Chloe's left hand moves under his collar, the right one at mouth level, which moves on another definition. _"Detective?"_

_Their_ definition.

"Shut up."

With her lips drawn back to his, Chloe is unreasonably drawn towards him, voluntarily sitting astride the Devil in a car. 

They both moan, welcoming together the very first friction of a long series of others. She listens to the rubbing of the fabric under her legs as she presses her body, her hips against his. That of the leather under Lucifer, his breath in the hollow of her shoulder as soon as she finds that specific spot under his ear.

The rubbing of her jeans between his fingers, a shy hold on the curve of her buttocks at first, firmer the second her tongue brushes his earlobe. 

Lucifer quivers with her hands on his skin, on his torso stripped of his shirt up to his navel. Chloe is only that strong, as any weak, yet fierce human desire. 

That's more than enough, enough for him to demand, to bring her lips back to his. 

She tastes cigarettes, Merveilles encircling bourbon in her mouth. She gets lost in it for a moment, until Lucifer releases her, nose to nose, breath upon breath.

"I never thought I'd say this, but-...." 

"But what?" Chloe encourages him.

His mouth, his eyes, his neck, his torso lifted on each word, each one blown on her skin…. 

She wants it all.

She wants him, unreasonably.

"You're not far from making the Devil come in his pants." He smiles. "That's... that's a first."

She laughs, bringing their faces closer for another kiss, less long and deep. More intoxicating, in a way, for all the ways she dreams of making him come in his pants. 

Chloe's hand passes over his neck, his torso; he brushes her nipple with his thumb. She leans forward, feels the growing pressure of his belt buckle against her skin. She leans further, until he quivers. Again. 

"There may be a solution…." she says once the belt buckle is out, pulled towards her. 

Lucifer, who has made much more progress in unbuttoning her shirt than she has twisting his buttons with her hand. He unclips her bra and moves his other hand under the curve of her left breast, arching an eyebrow. "I'm all ears, Detective."

With these words, his thumb moves back to her nipple, applying a longer pressure. She moans, exhales, forehead against forehead. Close enough to see the Devil's satisfied smirk - so attentive, so pleased with himself. "Exactly."

Shivering, burning; the solution is muffled between their bodies, Chloe's raised as much as possible to let Lucifer's mouth replace his thumb, who contorts himself beneath her. His practice is less surprising than welcome, a thrill catching her breath when he lowers his pants halfway down his thighs. 

For a lick on her skin, Chloe scratches the back of his neck, his perfect hair. For the expert pressure of his lips around her nipple, she presses her other hand against his erection.

When Lucifer presses his mouth harder, Chloe spreads her fingers around the tip. His hand twitches around her breast, hers moves lower.

Slow, fast, back-and-forth moves. Although never straight to the point.

The Devil's lips feel less experienced, breathless against her skin, around her name, "Chloe...."

She buries her free hand in his hair, applying slight pressure on his neck and the tip of his member. He digs his fingers into her back, on the verge of pain, this muffled moan around her breast, his tongue begging for her own litany. _"Mmh..._ Lucifer…." 

Then his other hand leaves her chest to trace an erratic line - directed by his partner's reasonable ministrations - to her panties.

How did he unbutton her jeans without her noticing? 

With her lips half-open against his temple, Chloe breathes in as soon as his fingers go under the cloth, on pressed lips, eager to know everything he could touch. How he could touch her—

"Because he knows _exactly_ what we want!"

Chloe freezes.

She opens her eyes, closes them until Lucifer closes another space between her thighs, between his too slow, too tempting fingers. Her breath blocked in her chest, her wide eyes open towards the intruder that appeared out of nowhere in the back seat.

Mouth open, she stares at the woman, legs crossed as Lucifer spreads hers with his free hand, mouth curved into a smile as his is tracing a slow and determined path between her breasts, to the high point, which is the curve of her chin. 

"Wh—"

"Oh, he's doing this thing! Look!" the intruder exclaims, her long blonde hair cascading down to her plunging neckline. 

"Tibetan singing pot and artisan hony?" 

Chloe's head turns, giving Lucifer more to climb with loads of kisses. Another woman, also blonde, head tilted forward, is trying to see over the Devil's shoulder.

_What the f—_

"We're in a car!" a more masculine voice protests and she turns her head to the driver's side, towards the annoyed - or perhaps overly aroused - man who is rummaging through the glove compartment. "We'll need Vaseline, best thing to take her to seventh heaven!"

Then clapping, in the back seat again, Eve hopping almost to the car roof with a sparkling smile. "This is gonna be so much _fun!_ "

Chloe jumps on Lucifer's lap when the window opens, Jana - past stewardess and Lucifer's lover - leaning over, her gaze on her firm grip. "Please buckle up... the take off might be intense!" 

"Ho—?" 

Chloe's stammering is nevertheless muffled by another voice behind Lucifer. "None of this matters." 

This voice alone silences all the others, including Chloe's. It silences the pleasure she feels with the Devil's meticulous touch. Chloe turns around, one hand on Lucifer's shoulder, where his shirt has slipped under for a growing desire now silenced as well after those multiple intrusions, this last manifestation. Her other hand, placed much lower down, is pushed aside by the woman's left one... not a woman, she looks more like a creature in a human sheath. 

Lucifer groans his assent in her neck. He tugs on her jeans, her panties, the evening breeze weaving its way under each fabric, just like his fingers, still slowly moving back and forth between her thighs. 

There is so little space between them, from one mouth to the other. Chloe's, open, mute with astonishment and anxiety. That woman's lips opened near Lucifer's earlobe, her tongue, her inhuman smirk. 

Lucifer's head falls backwards, his nose tickling Chloe's temple, then his breath, hoarse with a name. "Lilith…."

The devilish finger moves rather forwards then backwards on her folds, it circles her clit, yet stops as soon as Lilith's tongue licks Lucifer's earlobe. Her blue eyes never leave hers, her dark hair being at one with the darkness. 

What she murmurs to the only human present strips her of the Devil's closeness, of her power on his release, "You don't matter."

"Mmh... _yes…."_ Lucifer moans, face turned towards Lilith.

This word, the way that Lucifer turns away from her grasp for other fingers than hers, seeking early release while he first wanted pleasure to last. 

He reacts earlier than expected. How his body moves beneath her, how his hips lift from the seat to meet, not Chloe's fingers, but Lilith's. How that woman plays a much more _important_ melody along his erection.

The Devil's finger possesses her prematurely.

Her cry joined his, surprise for pleasure, more pleasure than Chloe can provide, for the red glow in the King's eyes… for human dead-end.

And Lilith laughs, delighted about her failure. 

_"My_ King…." 

**-xXx-**

With a sharp move and a strangled cry, Chloe opens her eyes, hearing more than she sees frightened cats fight nearby. 

"Bloody cats…." 

She turns her head, staring between each blink - and there are many - Lucifer turning to the window, to this four-legged street brawl. 

She has blinked at least fifteen times when he turns around, staring back at her. "Detective?"

**_"Detective?"_ **

Taking a deep breath, she looks down at his crotch.

Pants on.

Buckled belt, irremediably buckled. 

"Like what you see?" 

Chloe doesn't respond, turning her head towards the back seat, her neck sore from her previous, unsurprisingly uncomfortable position. Not a blink, neither a move as she scrutinizes every visible inch of the car.

"Detective?" Lucifer repeats.

She notices the change of intonation; concern instead of teasing.

She swallows and turns back to her partner's perplexed expression - fully dressed, awake, normally 'aroused' by this never-ending stakeout.

Chloe opens her mouth, fire rising to her cheeks. 

Fire.

Lucifer, his eyes... and....

Her eyes turn to the street side. "I... I fell asleep, didn't I? For how long?" 

"Long enough for me to record everything."

A hand through her hair, over her face, her mouth ajar, Chloe stares at him. "Record? Record what?"

Lucifer's triumphant smile is the only answer she gets. He lifts his finger, erected like another member she's doing her best not to imagine beyond Morpheus' arms, his arms…

Neither looking towards—

**_"Chloe…."_ **

_Shit._

Her gaze travels between Lucifer and the dashboard, she barely hears him rummaging through his suit pockets. He pulls out his phone, his grin wider than before on his face, and diabolically teasing, as he shows her the device. 

"My favorite show, Detective." 

Chloe needs another second to get whatever he meant.

Her heartbeats race in her chest the second Lucifer's finger moves towards the playback option. "How about we distract ourselves with it now, hm?"

**_"No!"_ **

Lucifer startles on his seat, phone in hand, arched eyebrow.

Chloe, meanwhile, breathes in and out loudly - a kind of bonus scene to the show he had been waiting for all night. She knows that he likes other shows, and that she's embarrassed enough not to risk hearing her... _personal_ version of it _._

She may have shouted a bit too loudly, though.

Clearly too much, judging by Lucifer's expression.

"All right," he says without taking his eyes off her, his phone slowly back in place in awkward silence. 

As for Chloe, she would've liked the intervention of another belligerent cat. Lucifer's gaze burns her skin, all the more so as she remembers the one she dreamed about earlier; how his fingers had taken control of her pleasure, how he had taken pleasure from the hand of another person.

This person that she hears about all the time, someone important. 

Someone who had made the Devil get a hard-on, who had made him scream faster, louder than she had.

_Fu-..._

"Is everything all right, Detective?" he asks after an embarrassing, terribly humiliating minute of dwelling on her last fantasy turned nightmare. 

Right. 

Right, right, right...

Chloe nods without looking at him, busy chewing on her bottom lip and fiddling her fingers so that she no longer thinks of his or how her panties are pressing against her fantasized desires with wet guilt. 

"Good," he says. "Because our guest has arrived."

"What?" 

With a glance, Lucifer points to the victim's house and the - masculine ? - suspicious shape walking towards it. It's still too dark to see 'his' face, though. Silence settles in on itself, another heavy - although less disturbing - tension rising inside the car, between the two partners.

The louder of the two quickly breaks it with a useless but instinctive whisper, anyway. "Ready, Detective?"

"No…."

* * *

**Tbc**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? I said there was a 'scene', not that it was real X) 
> 
> (Don't hit me before winter festivities, thank you XPPPPP)
> 
> The next chapter will be published next year (I'm not sure of which day yet, so no specifications, we'll keep the suspense a bit :D) I hope this Christmas gift pleased you as much as it pleased me. 
> 
> A comment, kudo and/or bookmark are very much appreciated, as always. So don't hesitate - I don't bite ;)
> 
> Enjoy - safely - the holidays with your family!  
> And already a happy (better, fingers crossed) year to all of you :333333


	15. Knock, knock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! (not a worst one than the last one, at least)  
> I hope you've all been able to party safely with friends and family :3 
> 
> First of all, a huge thank you for your comments for the last chapter. Seriously, the hits made a giant jump forward! You're all wonderful :3 
> 
> And here's the new chap, the starting update for 2021.  
> Turns out it's the longest chap I've written for this story so far, but there are good chances that the 'date' chap win. Who wanna bet? X)
> 
> Music (several, this time):
> 
> 1) Cold Blood | Valen  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U6IZRV2vbWg
> 
> 2) Champions | Fire Choir  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/501qGTAu55OQ56WaC9M6XH
> 
> 3) Fearless | Kat Leon  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/4q7NZN0jgDLSxetFIn55z8

**KNOCK, KNOCK**

15

* * *

By the time Chloe gets out of the car, jacket on her sore shoulders and gun in her holster, their suspect has already disappeared behind the house. Probably to go through the kitchen rather than the living room and thus avoid further risk of being noticed. 

Speaking of which, Lucifer doesn't seem to feel concerned, a foot already on the road between her car and Jessie Evans' house. Chloe grabs him by the sleeve and pulls him behind a waste container at the entrance of the dead end. Lucifer crouches down, his eyes following a long, sticky streak that's barely an inch away from touching his shoulder. Slightly moving aside while wrinkling his nose in disgust, he turns to Chloe, back straight. "What are we waiting for?" 

"I want to make sure he's in the house," she whispers, craning her neck towards the house and its windows, all shut on the darkness inside.

No suspicious movements nor lights.

"We could have waited in the car," Lucifer complains.

"We could have... if _you_ hadn't gotten out that quick. Where did your 'exhilarating languor' go, hm?"

"Snored on the wrong side of the car, didn't you?" 

Chloe welcomes his teasing with a glare, but Lucifer's gaze is already directed elsewhere. He, towards the house; she, towards the car behind her where she had left her phone. 

She should call for backup, just in case.

But getting back to the car and following procedure, that's more time for their only suspect to run away. 

"Knock, knock, Detective." 

Lucifer's whisper makes her turn around. His pointed finger guides her eyes to the largest window on the ground floor, to the left of the front door. The gleam dancing on the pane captures her look, a reflection of quick - probably panicked - movements inside.

"Follow me," she whispers back before walking along the container. 

"Not the answer I was expecting, but-" 

So much for backup. Anyway, it was only one man. The Devil and a human could handle this without external help, like they'd done with dozens of similar situations before. 

The gleam is gone seconds before they climb the front steps. Chloe looks through the other window; smaller, reflecting no more suspicious presence than its twin. She can only see the first flight of stairs leading to the second floor from here.

"Detective?" 

She turns towards Lucifer, his hand already on the handle. Nodding, she takes her gun when he turns it towards her, the leather discreetly rubbed while the lock releases a clicking sound, the slight pressure of the Devil's hand on the door while her hand welcomes that of her gun. She grabs her flashlight from the other, gun and light pointed towards the kitchen.

Empty.

Chloe's and Lucifer's gaze meet before she enters, her creaking steps soon smothered in the living room carpet. Which is also empty. 

Lucifer sighs at her back, door closed behind him. "Well, that's disappointing." 

"He's still here, he must be."

Cautiously, Chloe enters the kitchen, a long narrow corridor of utensils and a stove as old as Methuselah that ends on a half-open wooden, screen door. She steps over spoons, lids and saucepans that had fallen during the messy fight between their suspect and the victim; the beam of her flashlight going up and down the door frame with each step she takes. With the barrel of her gun, she opens the door wide to the garden and the green wooden fence around it. Being still full dark outside, the fence looks even darker. Troubling, unmoving pillars and yet… she could feel them coming closer if she ever stops looking at them. 

Frozen in time.

Chloe shakes her head.

Talk about Hell, about complete darkness in the middle of the night... not the best way to keep a clear head. 

It's clear that their guy used that door, at least. Chloe passes her flashlight over the piece of mosquito net that had been ripped off - _cut_ off perhaps - above the latch. It's a miracle that Jessie hadn't been assaulted before yesterday. 

Chloe thinks of the murder weapon, the baseball bat she was keeping in the living room.

Or maybe Jessie was prepared for it. Anytime. 

Chloe's flashlight passes over the rest of the garden without seeing anyone or noticing any suspicious noises. 

"We should check upstairs," she whispers to Lucifer.

She turns around, beams of light passing over the emptiness of the living room, of her partner's presence.

"Lucifer?" 

Her flashlight instantly rises towards the ceiling and its squeaks. She rolls her eyes soon after. "Or _you_ check upstairs and I keep talking to myself..." she mutters, gun down and steps led to the stairs. 

Muffled in the carpet a few seconds later, they are stopped dead by another noise. Not from the kitchen, neither upstairs.

Chloe's entire body tenses with just a breath, arms and gun extended towards the closed door leading to the garage, to the left of the kitchen. 

There are those very special moments, hard to explain or making any sense to whoever doesn't have the same kind of job, whoever doesn't have to deal with as many risks as she does for others' safety; the kind of moment when you have to listen to your sensations and nothing else. 

Neither Lucifer's reassuring footsteps - because they're _his_ \- above her head, nor the kitchen door slamming rhythmically with the wind, nor her trembling fingers around the grip of her gun or the thought invading her mind.

_You imagined that noise. It's just a door._

Just listening to the shiver running along her spine that makes her hair stand on end, from her neck to the tight hold of the elastic, as tight as her hands are on the gun and the flashlight. 

Someone's behind the door.

She can feel it; the weight behind the panel, the frozen movement, waiting for hers to come. 

She thinks of calling Lucifer, thinks better the next second. If it's nothing, if she wastes her chance to catch the suspect.... 

Second breath, firmer grip around the gun, Chloe walks discreetly towards her goal. Lucifer's presence is audible enough upstairs to silence hers, though. 

She even thinks she's been rather discreet once the barrel of her gun nearly brushes the door, the thought nonetheless nipped in the bud as the aforesaid door bursts open and thinks of knocking her out. 

**-xXx-**

Chloe hates tea. 

Not strong, tasty enough. Too much noise with mom's kettle, which she got from grandma. 

Damn family legacy. 

Chloe buries her face in the pillow. The wool tickles her temple, then her nose, wrinkled for the unpleasant smell becoming a taste in the back of her throat. Her hand twitches on the pillowcase, the other up to her ear. 

Sticky ear. 

She should shower before she even thinks about going downstairs.

Getting out of bed, too. 

Her mom thinks the same, given how she's shaking her gently. Yet, it's too much shaking for the anvil that weighs around her skull. Soon the weight becomes discomfort, then pain under her fingers, from the right side of her head to the bridge of her nose.

Soon, her mom's annoyed mumbling becomes the Devil's panicked voice. "-ec'ive!"

Hands other than hers touch her temple, hair and neck; one passes underneath, the other supports her chin. The movement, though cautious, revives the pain, deep beneath her closed eyes. 

"'loe…'o you hea' ...me?"

"Mhm...." 

Her eyes open on the locks of hair delicately removed from her forehead. Then she hears a sigh. Lucifer's. 

Relief.

"There you are!" 

She shudders when his thumb passes under her eye, yet doesn't go any further. Neither does Chloe's effort, eyes shut the next second.

She has opened them too soon. 

Too long.

Because... because that halo around Lucifer isn't normal at all. 

"Detective?" 

"St'll h'r…." 

"Right, but-" 

Chloe takes a deep long breath that doesn't decrease the pressure under her eye. "W't... happened?"

She regrets having opened her mouth now that the bitter taste in the back of her throat rises higher, every time she swallows. She regrets filling her nostrils with the strong smell of dried blood in the carpet, the blood that has reached her lips, has started to flow under her hair.

Blood helps this terrible taste to escalate behind her pinched, closed lips.

Closed, her eyes aren't anymore, first on the wide-open garage door to the coffee table, upside down above her head. Rolling on her back, she lifts a hand to her temple, squinting at three of her seven blood-stained fingers.

Seven? 

"Chloe?"

She turns her head, devil without halo and kneeled at her side, staring at her anxiously. "What happened?"

Lucifer's gaze changes, widened for a moment, frowning shortly afterwards. "That's twice the same question, Detective."

She frowns, too. 

Ow... bad move. 

"Is it?"

He nods and leans towards her with his arm beneath her shoulders to help her sit up. He's talking, she's sure she just heard words, but—

That buzzing sound, she only hears that sound, that and her breathing blocked at ears level, any other noises in the room.

Soon, far too quickly, Lucifer helps her to stand up. Even faster, the acrid taste doesn't just invade her throat, but her entire mouth. It takes her breath away, seizing the pain as do her hands with Lucifer's shirt, as she tries to catch it there, with her nose buried in the fabric. 

"The...uspect, he--" she gags.

"--is long gone," Lucifer replies as she fruitlessly tries to free herself from his firm and suffocating support. "I would've already torn off his bloody knucklebones one by one if he wasn't!"

Terrifying.

Yet, she laughs. Face still buried in his shirt, she opens one eye and notices a forward movement. Towards the front door. 

"W'...re you going? C'ck out the room--"

She tries to move aside, Lucifer's right arm lowers to her waist to prevent her from falling backwards, his other hand on her cheek, a thoughtful support for her head and that endless buzzing. 

She hears him protesting between two of them. "--lling for backup and an ambulance is what matters...ight now." 

Chloe blinks and shakes her head at these few words of protest, "I don't need an amb--"

Stopped by the acrid taste inside her mouth rising from her throat to her lips, nothing can stop the ensuing outpouring of nausea. Lucifer's hands, however, stop her fall after it splashed his shirt. "Bloody Hell!"

**-xXx-**

Of all the things that could worsen Chloe's nausea, - her empty stomach, the pounding headache through one temple to the other, or the swaying of the car whenever they take a corner at variable speed - it's her partner's frequent glances that might succeed. 

"You're vulnerable around me," she whispers for the last glance towards her. 

"You're vulnerable around anyone."

Given how his voice sounds, she gets that his comment is a more puzzled than a playful one, more a fact thrown in the air, for his failure to understand her own comment. 

It's more cute than annoying. The corner of her lips lifts and brushes the window on the passenger side. Eyes open - definitely better not to lose count of her stomach 'dance' going up to her throat - Chloe watches one, two cars pass theirs; then the bridge a little further on. Its suspension ropes, dark rods running parallel to the not so 'horizontal' sunrise, remind her of the fence in the victim's garden.

They remind her of Hell.

But she's never been there in person, not even in her dreams.

"You're gonna make us go off the road if you don't look at it," she says, eyes shut for the intermittent dark-lit brightness from the bridge.

"You're the one whose consciousness is going off here," Lucifer points out. He doesn't look away, yet knowing precisely when to brake and let a school bus pass in front of them. 

The left half of her face, from her nose to her eyebrow arch, is stabbed enough by pain so as not to try to contradict him. She hasn't yet dared to look at the extent of the damage in the rear-view mirror or the sun visor, but it shouldn't be as bad as she fears. The paramedics let her go and hadn't insisted that much for her to go to the hospital. She'd only had to skip the offer a dozen times, so...

"I'm fine. Look at the road," she repeats.

She hears him sigh. "I sincerely believe that our police-related drive should become 'hospital'-related, Detective." 

And sighs in turn.

_And that makes eleven._

"I'm fine."

"My shirt 'smells' otherwise."

She smiles. "This should be a 'clean shirt'-related drive, then. Well… if you're _really_ the Devil." 

The car stops abruptly, the discreet dance within her belly pushed forward like the rest of her body. Chloe flinches, a peak of discomfort digging into her skin under the basic bandage put on in the ambulance half an hour ago. She breathes in through her nose, a slow breath of air turning nausea and pain into stomach heaviness and minimal discomfort under her closed eyelids. 

Then back open, she meets Lucifer's wide ones. Freaky unblinking eyes. 

The Devil.

Freaky. 

_Obviously._

"What was that for?" she moans.

"List me five recent events."

"What? Why?"

"Five, Detective. Devil's command... the very one you forgot, it seems," Lucifer adds as his gaze lingers on the small gauze across her left eyebrow. 

Chloe would roll her eyes if only she wouldn't have had that bandage, in addition to pain and bile that are back challenging her control of her body responses. Limited with the expression of her annoyance, she just sighs. "I _was joking_ , Lucifer."

"I'm not." 

"Lucifer--"

"These human health care practitioners weren't either! They're as much human as you can be, so I tend to believe that they knew what they were talking about when they advised you to take _care_ of yourself and rest," Lucifer says by raising his hands. 

The sunrays through the windshield emphasize the general darkness of his clothes, so do they with his mood. Not really a halo for the former angel. Rather the memory of a light to which he had turned his back on, as he's turning his head right now; straight, hardline profile for the rising star. 

The Devil in God's Light.

The aforesaid Devil stops talking - whatever he may have said the last five seconds, Chloe wasn't really listening - when she chuckles mindlessly, "-t to check—... Chloe?"

The corner of her mouth lifts as she shakes her head _very_ slightly. "Sorry, I... I'm just--"

"Stubborn? Reckless?" he quotes, a hand on the wheel.

"Okay, you're the one who just braked in traffic, not me," she replies, pointing to the moving vehicles around them in the middle of the road.

"And you're the one dealing with a concussion, Detective."

"A slight one."

"Slightly disturbing if you start to forget who I am or giggle like a bloody baboon!"

"It's fine really, just a graze." 

"And now you're repeating yourself. A confused state is _not_ fine, rather the opposite!" Lucifer exclaims, passing fingers through his only two rebellious locks at the top of his furrowed brow.

Oh, how she'd like to roll her eyes. 

She closes them instead, opening them shortly afterwards on her partner's repeatedly tense face. Saying that the suspect had barely touched her isn't a lie, nor is it the truth. To tell the truth, Chloe can't _tell_ much, not remembering much about what happened between the time she had approached the garage door and the time when Lucifer approached the ambulance doors.

Her thoughts come and go, wrapped around the fractured pillar of her short-term memory. 

Expected results with slight concussion.

It's nothing serious.

"I'm repeating myself because _you're_ repeating yourself and I don't look _fine_ because your questions aren't helping me look so," Chloe grumbles as she closes her eyes, her thumb brushing her unharmed eyebrow.

She can almost hear the pain throb around her skull in the silence that follows.

"Because I never should've left you alone."

She turns, Lucifer's eyes turned back to strict traffic surveillance in front of him, his hands stretched around the steering wheel. She wouldn't be surprised to see it break if he squeezes harder. The unusual, troubling tension of his muscles as her hand finds his arm is no more surprising. It could've been troubling if she wouldn't have known who he is; because she does, doesn't forget. 

What surprises her is… that she doesn't say anything to prove him wrong. 

Because he had been wrong. 

He should never have left her alone downstairs and yes, she might not have been in this state if he'd stayed to check the living room instead of going upstairs to search the victim's bedroom because he'd 'wanted to'. He should have warned her.

And, initially, Chloe should have called for backup before checking the house. This wouldn't have prevented the subsequent assault, but there certainly would have been a better conclusion than the suspect's easy escape. 

She could reassure Lucifer by self-flagellating as well, by being more 'responsible' than he had been. 

She's the detective, he's the simple consultant. 

She's the vulnerable human around anyone, he's the vulnerable Devil around her.

The Devil who can't always be there to protect her from danger.

This truth weighs on her vocal cords, it freezes her fingers on his sleeve, which had been crumpled more than usual by the professional prolongations of the previous night. Chloe swallows, breathes in through her nose for yet another acrid ascent around this truth that weighs on her.

On them.

So, instead of reassuring him about his responsibility - as she would have done 'usually' - she does as she's told.

She starts to list five recent events. "Jessie Evans is our victim, killed yesterday afternoon. We found poison in her tea, but that's not what killed her."

The tension under her hand decreases a bit.

"I…." Chloe pinches her lips. "We got a fight, Dan and I. At the precinct, about you." 

The fabric tenses, slides from bottom to top, following Lucifer's movement; still silent, yet focused on her. 

She stays focused on the sleeve, the words sliding between her lips. "Speaking of stakeouts, I fell asleep at some point and…." She sits up, watching yet another car honking and speeding over their stationary vehicle before looking at him. "And you're disrupting traffic, with a detective of the L.A.P.D. as a witness." 

Lucifer squints. "That only makes four _past_ events." 

"If you start the car and drive me to the station, that'll make five," she replies, her hand off his sleeve. 

Lucifer holds it halfway in her lap. Chloe watches their fingers intertwine almost instantly. She feels her skin shiver against the stifling heat of his; solid, invulnerable on some occasions. A layer of harmless alabaster for the crimson blazing fire underneath.

His skin feels warmer than she remembered.

Than she fant-... dreamed.

Dream, yes. Not a fantasy, not with Lilith and all his... human conquests in the background. 

**_"You don't matter."_ **

A nightmare.

"You should get some rest, Chloe."

Chloe raises her chin, she meets his gaze - worried brown without licentious crimson. A look for her, only her. 

She withdraws her hand, struggling against his supernatural strength before he consents to let go of her. He frowns. 

"Look, if you don't wanna drive me there, just take my place."

"You certainly shouldn't drive in your condition," Lucifer cuts her off. 

"I can take an Uber!" 

Her tone surprises them both, as much as it surprises her headache - dormant beat that hits the roof of her skull soon after, wrapped around the eyes and attached to her stomach. She closes her eyes, her jaw clenched, lips set in a hard line of tension very close to submitting to nausea. 

"Very well," Lucifer murmurs.

And Chloe almost expects to hear him getting out of the car to switch places or driving her to an Uber, hardly able to _see_ him without throwing up on his shoes or the dashboard. 

She hears the engine roar again instead. She feels the controlled swaying, at its limits for her restless stomach. Her hand pressed on her mouth, her breath brushing her thumb, she focuses on her sensations. She holds on until Lucifer stops the car for the second time and that fresh air rushes in from his side.

Hand on tense lips, closed eyes opening on the door - wide open too - Chloe's belly twitches even more. 

Is he really gonna leave her here, alone? 

He's walked far, fast enough and hasn't turned around once to contradict the facts. 

_Great._

Best timing to listen to her to the letter.

For a second, she's tempted to get out of the car and ask him how he's gonna go back to his place if he abandons the only available vehicle. That's before she remembers who she's dealing with. And the information takes so long to reach her brain that she might - eventually - admit she's not at her best. 

Lucifer surely flew to his penthouse by now. Can't take that long, just the time for her to catch her breath. Maybe. Probably. How would she know?

Chloe feels so tired at once that she doesn't even try to close the driver's side door. Nor does she move from her seat, eyes shut on the decisions to make. She could take the wheel, of course. She could... if her nausea would stop for long enough. Even so, her driving would still be awkward. Exaggeratedly slow at best, to avoid a possible dizzy spell in the middle of the road.

Such an example of responsible driving from the L.A.P.D. 

The Lieutenant would love the publicity, as would Dan - that and piling on her recent lack of morality, Lucifer's bad influence on their daughter and herself. 

Chloe opens her eyes, the back of her hand pressed against her sweaty forehead. 

No, drive is a bad idea.

An Uber, then? 

Her boss would still ask for an explanation, Dan would still be a pain in her partner's ass. 

She _must_ go to the station, though. To give that new evidence to Ella, at least. She could have left it to the officers at the crime scene after her statement, but….

It's _her_ case.

_Her_ aggression. 

Her hand, resting at the level of pain, goes down to the glove box, then around the sealed bag with the vial inside it. She pulls on the plastic, her fingers tracing the edges of the tiny bottle that she and Lucifer had found behind the garage door - just Lucifer, who had been less surrounded by paramedics and cops than she. It had probably fallen out of the suspect's pocket before - or while - he was trying to split her skull in half like he did with Jessie Evans'. 

Chloe's lips set in a hard line as she does her best so as not to see anything but deep exhaustion in the slight, steady tremor along her fingers.

_You're fine. You're_ **_not_ ** _Jessie Evans._

It wasn't the first time she had nearly gotten killed on duty. 

She takes a long breath through her nose, the back of her skull back against the headrest of her seat, the bag on her knees. 

She _didn't_ nearly get killed.

There's no reason for her to freak out for what _might or might not_ have happened between the time when her vulnerability had been to its highest point and the time when Lucifer had rushed downstairs. Whatever might happen while Lucifer would no longer be on Earth is as irrelevant.

He's not here. Now.

And she's _fine!_

Perfectly fine, Chloe loses track of time as soon as her eyes stay shut for seconds, the pain digging into her brain not helping at all. Minutes as an hour could have passed when she jumps on her seat as her door opens. Blinking a lot, she shades her eyes with one hand from the rare, though bright, sunray's that pass the newcomer's imposing stature. 

Well… not that 'new'. 

She frowns. "Lucifer? Wha--"

"I know, I know - 'time is money'... so I've heard. Anyway, let it not be said that the Devil is tight fisted about your health, Detective. In addition to driving like a maniac, of course." 

"Like a... what?" Chloe whispers.

Hand still shading the rising star over Lucifer's shoulder, she looks at the two big white bags near the open door. She then notices the others - four bags as large and full to the brim, all carried by Lucifer like it weighs nothing. 

"What's all this?" With her free hand, she pulls one of the bags towards her. 

Lucifer puts the four bags at his feet. "This is the closest health care you'll get." 

Chloe opens her mouth and moves her legs out of the car, her feet encircling the closest bag as she rummages through it. 

Lucifer pulls out heated icepacks from another bag and a box of Advil from another. "Well, the person I talked with wasn't a practitioner but he was undoubtedly human. His expertise thus should be helpful to take care of yourself despite _yourself._ Although, I start to wonder if we have enough of these…" he reads the back of the box, "… _Tylenol_ 's pills to overcome concussion. I usually take twice as many drugs to overcome boredom."

Chloe's hand wraps around a bottle of fresh water out of the bag that she places on her lap, the other playing with a smaller box of Tylenol as Lucifer throws his into the bag with a dubious expression. 

He frowns even more once he looks at Chloe. "Maybe I should have bought more." 

Given the amount of varied medication that's at her feet, she's pretty sure he shouldn't. She slightly shakes her head. Once, just once so as not to worsen her headache. 

"No need."

Lucifer doesn't look convinced. "You sure? You're... _crying._ Doesn't that mean that the pain is… too much?" 

Chloe smiles, she drinks her tears even before the water from the bottle on her lap. "I'm sure. It's tolerable," she reassures him, wiping her cheek with the back of her sleeve. 

She only feels relieved not to be left alone, defeated, dejected by more than she could control. 

Not again. 

After a quick inspection of the bags, Chloe sniffs and looks at Lucifer, not ready yet to praise his efforts rather than curse them. This is just faked normalcy, after all. Excessive normalcy for the unbearable emptiness she would have to fill with nothing, nothing more _normal_ for her to live without him. Before him. 

She unscrews the cap, her hand tracing patterns on the plastic ; from bottom to top, then from top to bottom. "Anyway… did you really have to buy the whole drugstore?" she reprimands him, the neck near her trembling lips.

"There's no limits to the Devil's care, darling."

The plastic makes a slight noise in her hand, the fresh water freezes her very last hopes to feign unfazed passivity. She breathes in, yet more oppressed than the last weeks, and averts her gaze. "Right."

This doesn't matter.

**-xXx-**

How is he doing _this?_

Chloe thinks faster than the instinctive, yet undeniable, thought coming into her mind - that some devilish stuff might do the trick, as always. She thinks many things, all coming from other details, which come from an undeniably long observation of the Devil. 

Not half slouched over the desk they shared, like she is. 

Not yawning so wide that it could dislocate his jaw. She can feel her muscles protest from chin to nose. 

From another perspective, another thought reluctantly conceded, Lucifer doesn't have a slight concussion. He only endured minor collateral damages that he tried to make disappear under astronomic soap and water, obsessed as he is about looking perfect in all circumstances. He rubbed his shirt fabric for so long with one, soaked it with the other, and several times since they arrived at the station that Chloe no longer feels solely responsible for his clothing misfortune.

She doubts that any dry cleaner in town will be able to resurrect his shirt as good as new.

Chloe's gaze briefly leaves her computer screen for the still damp fabric of devilish laundry. The shirt couldn't be darker, more crumpled and pressed against the Devil's six-pack. 

It's the most obvious detail on him that their night hadn't been nice and quiet. Although, if it's not obvious enough for everyone around, Chloe's appearance wins by far.

Even his hair - more tousled than usual despite all the water he had used to style every lock-, even his beard one day too old, too ungroomed for his scrupulous masculine perfection don't equal his human partner's exhaustion. 

On second thought, it might be the attitude, the posture and aura of lingering perfection orbiting around him that prevented her boss from sending her back home for the rest of the day. As she had feared, her arrival at the station had aroused surprised and worried murmurs at first, then shouted orders from the Lieutenant who wanted them both to follow her in her office. Chloe had at least been relieved not to run into Dan at that time, neither afterwards. 

One reprimand is enough.

Lucifer's skillful whispers intent to soften her boss' reasonable irritation, already too much. 

Both of them agreeing on which was the best way to let her keep working on the case while not making her state of health worse than it already is - the worst part of the day, really.

Who do they think she is? Some teenager who's unable to figure what's good for her? She'd _just_ declined an unnecessary medical examination to the ER. There's no need to chaperone her, no need for Lucifer to act so instead of their usual partnership since then. When he's not sitting straight and more awake than she'll ever be, busy helping her with paperwork, he looks for any leftover donuts and retrieves one from a colleague on leave - for her. When he doesn't bring every bottle he bought earlier around her desk, on which she's been closed to stumble several times, he asks for the heat to be turned down.

Then asks for it to be turned up ten minutes later. 

And yet, besides this crazy stampede… he breathes, shows, and speaks with an energy she doesn't have at all. 

Maybe she should've gone back home the moment she'd given the vial to Ella. Get some sleep.

**_"My King...."_ **

Her fingers shake a bit on the mouse. 

No. 

No sleep.

It's been hours since she had that dream and Chloe still has trouble getting it out of her head. It is no better for what happened in the house, of what could've happened if Lucifer hadn't been there at all. 

**_"Because I never should've left you alone."_ **

No Lucifer, in three months. 

Her hand squeezes the mouse harder, clicks and clicks of petrifying uncertainties that will only get worse in her fertile subconscious, eager for unsolvable problems. 

She can't prevent, can't act against Lucifer's departure. She can't reassure herself about the - toxic, maybe? - bond he shares with Lilith and how it might have an influence on theirs that is still young, fragile. 

A fine thread joining two planes of existence. 

Two times of experience. 

Nor can she go back on how vulnerable she had been a few hours earlier, with the suspect.

But she can find him. She can do something about it; even exhausted, even wounded, chaperoned by the worst guardian of professionalism in the world. 

Even... afraid of all these things that she could never control, Chloe can control how she reacts to her aggression. 

She can catch this bastard, lock him up in this life so that Lucifer would lock him up in the next.

"Remind me again what we're looking for?" Lucifer inquires as he takes one of the files piled up behind the screen. 

"I don't know. Anything."

"Well, that explains everything!" he exclaims, file open in his lap, his heels on the edge of the desk. "Or nothing at all, which comes to the same, I suppose." 

Chloe sighs heavily. "We're looking for a link between the first and the second victim, but I don't know what. It's the principle of in-depth research, Lucifer. Searching for whatever isn't right before our very eyes." 

"Your in-depth research sounds nothing like mine, Detective. Although no one spells it the same. Oh, speaking of spel--!"

She glares at him. "What's left of coffee in this cup is hot enough to cool your libido, Mr. Morningstar," she warns him, within an inch of grasping the aforesaid cup.

His smile fades, his fingers slowly turning a document from right to left without having scrupulously read. He only has eyes for Chloe.

A puzzled, still concerned look.

"I would gladly point out that your authority would cool anything but my manhood on other occasions… anyway, thermic shock is the last thing you and I need right now." 

"You better help me find a connection between our victims, then."

She has perceived the gleam in his eyes, the hope to lighten the weight on her shoulders - not that he knows where it comes from, yet he knows it's here. She appreciates him trying. Usually. She feels guilty for putting an end to such a gleam only a second later, when Lucifer looks away and nods, his fingers tilting forward another useless file. "Of course," he says.

He doesn't say much for the next ten minutes, during which Chloe's helplessness and guilt kick up a notch behind her screen. She can't find anything very significant that would connect the victims, not even Penelope to Francis before he arrived at the Centre or Penelope's involvement in it. 

Why had she suddenly been interested in such a cause?

She was old and it was the first time, the only time before her death, that she had helped underprivileged people.

Of all the causes she could have defended, financed... why the underprivileged youth of East Los?

Why not defend immigrant people, abused children looking for another place to live? Why not homeless people? 

Why this center, why Francis? 

And why kill Jessie Evans?

She had absolutely nothing in common with Penelope. One young and limited resources with a thankless job, the other older with substantial means since her husband died two years ago, keen on juvenile 'lost' causes. 

Young. Juvenile.

Juvenile. Young.

What if Jessie had been helped by the Center years ago?

"Where's the list of former residents of the Center?" she asks Lucifer as she pulls the stack of files towards her by its base. 

He catches the falling stack with one hand, which she brushes while removing hers. Real quickly. "These are all the files, from the beginning of the year." 

"Just from this year?" 

He nods, his hand moving away from the wobbly stack now wedged against the screen. He flips through the file on his lap, as he has done the previous ten minutes. "The Centre welcomes and disposes of many lost prepubescent souls each month, Detective. Blame monetary self-centredness and global capitalism. It looks like the length of the lists grows or shortens with monthly donations."

His quiet, so quiet, intonation makes Chloe cringe. His mouth moves tensely around words; he is more tense, more than he has been lately. She frowns as she listens to him, as she notices how his gaze never meets hers for more than a few seconds. 

"What about the archives?"

"Unless I am mistaken, they're still in another dusty box at the Center," Lucifer informs her, not looking up once from the file.

"Really?" 

He nods. "Mhm. You couldn't carry everything on your own. We left those from 2010." 

"2010?" Chloe repeats, surprised. "Nothing before?" 

"Before?" Lucifer sounds rather intrigued than distant this time. "What for?" 

"Jessie Evans might have lived there when she was younger. That would fit with her situation, she wasn't rolling in money. Besides that, adults often reproduce the same kind of environment into which they've grown up." 

"Not in my experience, Detective. That being said, mine has mostly been out of human standards."

He turns another page, almost the last one of the file he's reading with attention - that he seems to read so. Always giving her the least amount of possible attention. 

The less possible.

She's reduced to getting only that from him, isn't she?

"Regardless, our last victim can't have been part of the Center's background for the simple reason that it only opened its door in 2010."

Chloe sits up. "How can you know?" 

Lucifer slightly shrugs. "One of the memorial trophies in Mrs Harris' office. See? Not a chance that our victim lived there. Neither volunteered." 

"Why not?" she asks defensively, her hands tense in front of the keyboard. 

Lucifer's hands close the file on his lap, put it back in the stack on her desk. He then joins them at mid-thighs, heels still resting on the edge of her workspace. His gaze on her is neither as tender as she has hoped nor as angry as she has feared. 

Neither pleasant nor unpleasant.

Neutral.

And she hates it. 

"Because I've just read that pile of files from top to bottom and none of them is listing Jessie Evans' as one of the volunteers. She has no connection to this place, no transcribed link at least." 

Chloe's fist hits the desk. "Damn it!"

She buries her hands in her hair, her fingers passing over the old, long-stretched elastic that lets more hair outside its grasp then inside. She hastily removes it and shakes her head, adding more locks of hair to the invisible weight on her shoulders. 

"There must be a connection…" she murmurs. 

"There always is, but it looks like this one is beyond our perception," Lucifer says. 

She rolls her eyes, shuts them briefly as soon as her wound lazily manifests itself with tolerable pain. She smiles unhappily, her right hand still buried in her matted, bloody locks of hair. "That's gonna help us, for sure." 

"'Help' is indeed what I'm trying to do here."

Chloe's head turns towards his bitter intonation. Her fingernails almost graze the back of her skull when the words come out of her mouth - unstoppable, stupid words. "I suppose that your 'helpful try' is out of my perception, then."

It's hard not to perceive Lucifer's posture change. No muscular tension following the blow, both literal and figurative, in a way. It looks more like a proper stop in Earth thermodynamics. There is no more 'neutral' reaction from him.

It's beyond her perception.

The water soaking the fabric of his shirt could freeze with each of his breaths, each move of his rib cage. His eyes could carbonize the files, her screen, the keyboard in front of her.

They could carbonize her. 

Her.

**_"You don't matter."_ **

Imperceptible. 

"If my help doesn't help you enough, I'd better get going," Lucifer offers, his gaze not leaving hers. 

She _won't_ avert her gaze from his. 

She could.

Shame, anger, helplessness, and guilt - all these emotions are eating her up enough from the inside to show a slight part of them to her partner, her--

**_"My King…."_ **

Her fingers tense on the keyboard, hidden from him. 

The King. 

"Good idea."

Her reply hurts him even more; she can see that it does with his slight frown, his fingers crushing the armrest of his seat before he stands up quietly, graciously. 

Too graciously.

Too neutral.

Too late for her to take it back, take it all back - her decision, her imperceptible feeling of helplessness. Too late to apologize for making him feel guilty about it. He's not the problem.

It's not just him.

Mute, not daring to say anything else that she might regret even more afterwards - perhaps more than seeing him leave now -, Chloe watches him uselessly smooth out the folds on his ruined shirt.

Ruined because of her.

"Call me if Miss Lopez has any news for the case, Detective." 

The intonation brings up anger, shame and guilt between her shoulder blades. She nods and watches him leave with shoulders down, submitted to what she perceives too often.

**_"There's no limits to the Devil's care, darling."_ **

Chloe sits up first, leans over the next file the next second, barely following the Devil's footsteps towards the precinct's exit. 

This....

These murders, these victims, this crazy guy on the loose….

She can prevent this.

She can understand the connection. 

**-xXx-**

"No. No, I-.... Yes, thank you for your help. Right, goodbye."

Chloe hangs up with a sigh.

It makes no sense at all. 

From the sigh ensues a long inhalation carried by an as long study of the ten open files throughout the desk. She closes the eleventh one and throws it on the only corner left unoccupied by that mountain of paperwork, close to another sigh. 

Her hands pull another file, already open, which she already read like... many times, already useless once she lays eyes on it one more time. Even so she thumbs through it again, for the umpteenth time. It's the only thing to do. The woman she has just hung up with - Krista, that was her name? - had assured her that the entire list of volunteers had already been given to the L.A.P.D. To her, then. The detective in charge of the case. 

She is.

In charge of these files, like many others.

She'll figure that out. 

She's gonna change things. 

**_"Now you understand how impossible your proposition is."_ **

She still doesn't understand what could have led the murderer to target Jessie after Penelope. Not the same age, not the same financial status, one murder very organized… full control, everything planned long before the act itself. Calm, even when he had risked ruining everything by using Francis, which was convenient. Which probably meant that he wouldn't have been able to approach Penelope's house - less risk of losing control in a smaller environment, more time to put the finishing touches of the staging if needed. Essential staging, isn't it?

Chloe turns another page of names.

Names and names that get through her senses, push her speculations.

Maybe he couldn't have approached Penelope that close, maybe that he didn't inspire enough confidence? 

No, no.

He had pretended to be a volunteer at the Center. He would never have been able to be part of it if he didn't inspire an ounce of trust in the staff and young people living there. 

It's something else.

She drops the endless list of names and leans over to the left corner of the desk, knocking over the pen pot as she takes the file from the first crime scene. She opens it over the volunteer file, passing the close-up pictures of the body for wide shots of the street. 

At the presumed time of death, that must have been crowded. The chaotic morning traffic, pedestrians in a hurry to get to work or those just going home after work - there were plenty of snack bars and coffee shops open 24 hours a day in the area. She had gotten plenty of calls for armed robbery when she was a newbie, so she knows. 

It was crowded.

Maybe what he was looking for.

Staying unnoticed, always. 

Frank was the one who had poured the poison. He didn't.

What about Jessie?

With Jessie Evans' file now open in front of her in a clutter of pages, half of which falling to the ground, Chloe takes another look at the pictures Ella had taken the day before. The mess, clear signs of a struggle... is it what he gets when he's on his own, with no backup to do the dirty work? With no one to make him look unnoticed, nearly invisible?

One like the other, the mess he left there was...

It doesn't make any sense. 

**_"You're not looking at the problem from the right perspective."_ **

First lesson she'd learned when she'd started as a cop; that amount of violence in a murder necessarily implies an emotional outburst, that both the victim and the murderer knew each other somehow. Or that it shows refrained pulsion. 

Chloe runs her finger over the picture of the teapot.

The first theory makes more sense. 

Searching for Jessie Evans' name in volunteer files makes as much sense. She and the suspect might have known each other from working there. And Lucifer had proved that such a meeting between the two victims was impossible.

**_"It's impossible."_ **

It makes _sense._

So why is it that the hiring manager - 'Krista' - can't recall Jessie's name? Moving her seat back, Chloe gathers up papers and cardboards without dropping this possibility. Maybe Jessie too had given a false name, removed any picture from her file - as their main suspect. Chloe has gone through the volunteers' files enough times to know every selfless face at the Centre. 

_But there's no video footage showing the second victim there. None._

But it's still a 'possibility'.

Shaking her head, she leans under the desk to pick up a paper stuck under the wastepaper basket. She shakes off the dust, reads a few lines there, knelt on the floor. 

Possibility....

You don't proof myth with possibi—

The paper creases in her hand. She closes her eyes and swallows, back on her seat the next minute as she watches her slightly trembling hands put papers into messy order. She pulls on the most creased parts, runs her hands over them to smooth out the words brutalized by her grip, words telling brutality as well. 

Home invasion, Penelope's home. A few months before she died.

A report from the police officer, the first to arrive on the crime scene.

She reads every word under her fingers, those of the broken window on the first floor, the 911 call, the victim's obvious state of shock at the hospital. 

'In shock'.

Her fingers stop on the last of these two words. She bits her lip.

**_"You should get some rest, Chloe."_ **

"I'm fine," she mutters to the papers spread out in front of her.

"Good for you."

Chloe jumps on her seat and raises her head. Mazikeen arches an eyebrow to her wide open eyes, to her hand moving too quickly towards her holster to support her previous mumbling. The demon puts her leather jacket on the seat on the other side of the desk.

Chloe sighs, relieved. "Maze…." She moves her still trembling hand back to the desk, engulfed by shame. "You startled me." 

"You'd startle anyone with that face."

Chloe pinches her lips and scratches her temple, grimacing as soon as her nail brushes the bandage and the wound hidden underneath. 

"What are you doing here?" she asks, ignoring her friend's comment.

"What are you still doing here... without Lucifer?" 

"Answer me, Maze."

She shrugs, her hands on the back of the seat. "Ellen wanted us to meet here." 

"Ellen?" 

"Your turn Decker. Answer me," the demon orders as she scrutinizes Chloe. 

"Working. I'm trying to find a murderer. The usual."

Chloe pretends to dive back into her files even though her eyes see nothing more but dark, blurred lines. She turns on the lamp on the desk, neither helpful for her reading. 

"This has nothing to do with Lucifer and his missed session with Linda, does it?"

Chloe lifts her chin too quickly to pretend otherwise. She knows it, Maze knows it - her smile is too wide, way too confident about hitting the nail on the head. Chloe squints. "How do you know he missed his session?" 

_"Phew!_ I should've put on a looser dress - Feels like my breasts are about to explode!" Linda complains, pulling the fabric of her little pink dress down to her mid-thigh, the other hand cupping her left breast.

Chloe stares at the therapist behind Mazikeen's back. "Linda?" 

Linda stops twiddling her breasts and smiles at her. "Hey, Chloe." She then looks at her clothes with a puckered forehead. "What happened to you? No, you'll tell me over a drink. You're ready?"

Chloe's mouth shuts, opens for the first question, nearly shuts again for her friend's second reaction, who's back pulling on her dress at butt level this time. "Ready? Ready for what?"

"Maze! Linda! Perfect timing, doc!" Ella congratulates them, rushing over her lab to high-five with Linda and then Mazikeen, although the latter _highs_ too enthusiastically. 

Ella rubs her palm with a slight grimace, then turns to Chloe, who's still clueless about what's going on here.

"Oh boy, _mi stupido!_ Sorry, Clo, I... I completely forgot to tell you that it's girls' night out tonight. I mean, I wanted to tell you last night, but you were on a stakeout and then you showed up today and-... it looked like you've been shaken like a rattle. Then your talk with the boss and—" She catches her breath, shaking her head. "You looked so-... _serious_ when you got out and gave me the vial that I-... I didn't want to-- You know? Sorry!" she repeats with an apologetic face. 

"Relax, Ella. It's fine, there's no rule against partying. I just can't tonight." 

"Can't or _won't,_ Decker?" Mazikeen implies, to which Chloe answers with a glare. 

"Chloe, you sure?" Linda asks, less pestering. Yet, her stare reflects Chloe's face too well. "You look like you could use a break." 

Chloe shakes her head again. She plasters a smile on her face, her hands passing over the cardboard file that she fills with various papers, not caring if it's the right ones in the right file. 

"I'm sure." Her voice sounds annoyingly broken. She avoids Linda's perceptive gaze to cling to Ella's. "I really am. And what I'm gonna use are the results on the vial to make some progress on the case. Ella?" 

"Still running but they should be ready tomorrow morning."

Chloe lets out a sigh. "That late?"

Ella nods. "Half of the lab staff is on vacation." 

"Great," Chloe mumbles as she closes the file. 

"Come on, Decker, it'll be fun!" Mazikeen picks up her jacket from the seat, Linda already heading for the stairs. "Well, _I'll_ make fun of you being drunk and sobbing about your heartbreak." 

"Heartbreak?" Ella repeats, eyebrows raised. "Wait! Something's wrong with Lucifer? Where is he, by the way? Haven't seen him since you gave me my gift." 

Chloe clears her throat and scratches her cheek, avoiding Mazikeen's gaze and Ella's naive smile. Devoid of her own perspective. "He... there was no need for him to stay that late, so-...." 

**_"I'd better get going."_ **

**_"Good idea."_ **

She breathes in and out; slowly, before even leaving her seat, metallic armchairs clenched with her trembling grip to imprint its shape in her palm. 

All this so as not to let that tremor, that very visible vulnerability echo through her voice. "Where are we going?"

**Tbc**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tribe night for the next chap!  
> Thank you so much for reading this one :D  
> No precise date for the next update (still busy translating the chap in English) but it's a matter of weeks.  
> See u soon & stay safe!


	16. A list

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again (always) A BIG BIG HUGE BIG thank you everyone for reading/commenting/leaving kudos and/or bookmarks since the last update :3 It means a lot to me! 
> 
> Back to the chap now, this chap I had to re-write three times ^^" But I'm good! I'm goooooooooood! Deckerstar is worth such efforts. So do you, readers ;) 
> 
> Warning - Chloe has already been hit by a newspaper while OkamiShadou98 was busy checking my spelling, so be kind with her folks. She is not at her best right now. (Thank you so much Shadou for the corrections and all the talk we had about this chap)
> 
> Music  
> ______  
> Lose Control | MEDUZA, Becky Hill, Goodboys 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/track/7CHi4DtfK4heMlQaudCuHK
> 
> Bring me down | B3LLA, xChenda (end of chap)
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/track/14JjyAeGefbjJ5hC3ndtQS

**A LIST**

16

* * *

Noises are pleasant silence. 

To be 'pleasant', silence is usually - inherently - noise free. Yet, Chloe - although keen on the usual silence that welcomed her every night after putting Trixie to bed - enjoys redefining it tonight. 

She usually liked to hear nothing more than her thoughts overlapping after each file read lazily in her bed or couch. But not tonight. Her thoughts, just thinking, are a deafening din. It had only led her to dead ends the last few days, to nothing but unsolved, swelling problems between her meager rational thoughts, all full of idiotic hopes. 

The music is loud enough to make her head spin, as much as the flowing alcohol between her lips. People’s voices on the dance floor, in every breathable space left - how could a nightclub other than Lux get that full on a Monday, she has no clue - and the sounds of broken glasses, closer and closer as dawn is coming… here is the 'full' silence that prevents her from thinking. 

It's these shadows, the beaming gold; both lapping skins, clothes, sweat-slicked hair and the ground beaten with stilettos, sneakers or colored booties. 

It's a thick bubble of sounds that doesn't let any others get through.

Such a pleasant intermission.

Chloe turns her glass against her bottom lip, her giggling muffled by other people's joyful cries for new music, a 'pleasant' one given their reaction. Her finger catches drops of tequila dripping from her lips to her chin. Her gaze lingers on the rhythmic gestures in front of her, then on the bar assaulted as never before, just meters from their 'tribe area'. 

Even though she feels more at ease than usual, she appreciates that Mazikeen has been able to find them a spot far enough away from the crowd and music to have fun without feeling overwhelmed. It looks like a backstage area, with the small staircase going up to the dance floor, footsteps and cries above her head and the softer atmosphere in that part of the club. 

More intimate too. 

For the dark dance floor, the bright and fluorescent lightings that pass and pass from one wiggled hips move to the next, everything looks softer here. Red carpet, dark booth seats and chairs, the ceiling low enough to touch it on tiptoe - for all those running, jumping, drawling footsteps on the other side - and the red lamps….

It's sweet, carnal. 

A pleasant cocoon for her sweet,  _ non-carnal  _ drift. 

Chloe can't recall the name of the place with precision. Not at all, in fact. But it might have a lot to do with her not wanting to think about anything. Or thinking of nothing too complicated until she couldn't think at all. 

She still manages to count the empty glasses gathered on the table in front of her and those she needs to reach this goal; so it must mean that her goal is still far away. Not as far as the bar. 

She cranes her neck, ignoring the tumbling glasses at her feet, eyes brushing the bar from one occupied end to the other. Her drift stops, right on the vertical lines along the entire length of the bar, underneath, behind thirsty customers' legs. It's not the same color than--

No.

No thoughts like that.

Why is she thinking about that?

Chloe shakes her head and looks up. 

Wrong move.

She can't look away from that man's broad shoulders, at the corner of the bar, standing between two women who were chatting while waiting for their order. His suit jacket is not as well cut, but it's the same color.

Anthracite.

Fingernails soon scratch her chin, supported by her palm until now. Her throat tightens around the alcohol, which no longer flows as fast. 

The man is smaller.

Chloe chuckles against her palm, almost a fist beneath her chin, against her lips.

Everyone is  _ smaller  _ next to him. 

She gulps. 

Not thinking. Not thinking about Lu-- 

But to think of not thinking, isn't it thinking of him anyway? How did she come to not be able to help herself? She was just looking around her, as she had been since she had settled into that small spot of noises, not 'up for crazy dancing' like Linda and Ella. 

Then what?

She then notices how the music has changed, how the bodies are no longer 'jumping-dancing' but are coming closer to one another. Slow, shared, desired.

Chloe sighs and takes one of the 'too many' last filled glasses in this void of noises. 

These empty lyrics don't sound like her, not by a long shot. 

She's  _ not  _ losing control, nor needs to call him. 

Not. By. A. Long. Shot.

With her emptied glass, her gaze - out of control - goes instinctively back to both women not so much interested by the man's awkward flirt, that man she thought close enough to-- 

To the uncontrollable. 

Her eyes get stuck on the closest woman to the man. Her miniskirt is more 'mini' than skirt, her hair long. Long and dark.

That's where her eyes act as a driving force for her thoughts, for the one that makes her open her mouth for something other than alcohol or the light chuckles of forthcoming sozzled state. 

"Your mother, Lilith... what does she look like?"

Before she even hears her answer, the last syllable of her question, Chloe's head turns to Mazikeen who shrugs. "Like a raging bitch, why?"

Chloe stares at the demon. She thinks too much of her answer, which answers nothing. She thinks of Mazikeen who thinks too much to question her back. Why bother with her reasons? She hadn't seemed so interested in them when Chloe had drunk shot after shot without saying the slightest word. 

Not that the demon had been as talkative.

Reasons aren't something Mazikeen needs to drink, to keep quiet or rule over a nightclub that was neither hers, nor her former boss's. 

Dammit.

Chloe's thinking too much, too fast. 

Thinking that the demon looks to be in her element, almost a queen with her legs crossed and her arms lying on the back of the booth seat, that's not thinking too much. Might be an answer too.

Demon. Mother of demons.

What's the line? Like mother, like daughter? It could fit demons. 

Chloe insists, not that she knows  _ why _ ,  "I meant 'physically', Maze."

"Like a raging bitch, why?"

Chloe shakes her head, placing the half-drunk glass on the cushion to her right. The glass rolls back, alcohol lost in bright lights and the indescribable shadow, towards the void between iron and fabric. 

"For nothing." 

It is. Nothing good had come to such thoughts so far, about the First Woman being the mother of an entire race, the one whose Lucifer trust w--

"Lucifer  _ what?"  _

Chloe turns around, squinting as she notices Maze's mocking expression, "Thought aloud, didn't I?" 

Maze's smile widens. 

She sighs. "Great." 

She hears the demon sit up on the booth seat and soon a shot filled to the brim is slightly shaken in front of her crinkled nose. Chloe meets her friend's stare, less mocking although still smiling more than she had been herself since…. 

For days, actually.

Is she painting a gloomy picture again?

It's not  _ that _ gloomy.

She smiles. Possibly anthracite. 

The picture hadn't always been so glum, however. It wasn't, until she knew that nothing could hold back an angel, and hardly a mortal. What could she do against God's will, against the Devil's care that he claimed to be  _ unlimited  _ for many things?

A lot of things if it wasn't for her. 

Gloomy picture?

She paints it as it is.

Well...  _ despite  _ her foolish hopes.

Alcohol drips from the glass before her tears, shadowy eyelashes chasing them away with a blink and a tense smile.

Maze refrains from commenting while she drinks. She even waits for the next shot, its contents more full-bodied for Chloe's thickening throat. She keeps staring at her, though. Not blinking once. Attentive, too pensive. 

"What's this bitch got to do with your chronic disability to get laid?" she asks once Chloe has placed the glass on the table and accepted another without hesitation. 

Chloe snorts. The burning sensation in her throat is nothing compared to the one around her eyes. Squinted, almost closed to the snorted sadness against the--

She can hardly count how many shots that have gone from hand to throat. 

Is she close to the number of non-return?

**_"There's no limits to the Devil's care, darling."_ **

No. Not close enough.

She should seriously consider keeping her mouth shut. Or dancing. Either wouldn't cleanse her as quickly of the amount of alcohol she has used against her thoughts as the words coming out of her mouth. 

"Nothing." She gulps, her throat not burned enough to silence her next words - vivid holes in her drift bubble. "Nothing, really.  _ Everything.  _ I--"

Mazikeen's stare is burning her now. Another signal to shut up. It's Mazikeen; a demon mostly clueless about human emotions. She doesn't care, at best. 

This is  _ Maze. _

She'd better talk to one of these women - too beautiful, too close to those dreamed of the night before. To this man too little close to Lucifer.

But talking is the last thing she wants to do tonight, isn't it?

"Have you ever felt…" Mazikeen instantly arches an eyebrow. No signal had any influence on her anymore, however. She's serving her thoughts, the most deplorable ones. "...ever felt powerless? You know... with Eve. Your relationship?"

Mazikeen's disdainful snort was expected. "I'm a demon," she says after she has stuck out her chest.

"A demon left by the wayside, by the first person she ever loved. Like me, by the first devil I ever l--" Chloe stops - finally! -, her glass suspended between her alcohol-soaked knees and her pinched lips. She frowns. "Well, he left you too, didn't he? Without saying anything, on top of that!"

She smiles, gaze up to the lightings of the ceiling. Smiling feels so wrong. But, all of a sudden, she's no longer left alone by the wayside. It's a more pleasant thought than she'd have first thought. Having someone to compare with. 

"I've been warned... I shouldn't even complain!" she chuckles with a shrug too high, too fast to falter. 

Mazikeen's ensuing silence is  _ quite  _ unpleasant to hear. 

Why does she suddenly have nothing to say about human emotions? Not even a tiny insult? 

Then, finally….

"Fuck off. And You're a lot more tolerable sober and hopeful, Decker."

Chloe laughs softly, then louder, almost folded in half on the bench. If Maze prefers her sober…. 

She sits up and takes a deep breath through her nose, nodding. "Riiiight? It's just that I'm... I'm--"

Maze arches an eyebrow. "Powerless?" 

Chloe smiles. "Pretty much. You're sure you wanna chat about feelings with me?" she asks.

She herself isn't so sure she wants to continue, even less so about 'no thinking'. And no more shots to avoid the question. Chloe is stuck, but not Maze. She's a demon. Not powerless, just indifferent to her fate. 

She gives a half-shrug at that, her arm barely moving on the leather. "It's that or dancing with Ellen and Linda." 

Chloe's laugh sounds more cheerful. She and Mazikeen smile instead of drinking to the quite unique choreography of the two other members of the tribe. People around have moved away from Ella's vivid arm movements to form a perfect circle around her. 

"Cautious strategy, for a demon."

"I only fight to win."

Nobody could win against Ella, the champion of wiggled hip moves. 

"But you keep losing with Eve, don't you?"

Mazikeen's expression isn't especially threatening, but it's not friendly. Chloe looks away.

"Sorry, it's just that-... I feel like you can understand what I'm going through. You know Lucifer, you know that feeling of powerlessness when they leave you behind and you, you can just… stand there and watch, right?" She chews on her lip. "This is no feeling. It's fact. He's gonna leave, just as he came back. And I'll stand there and watch, as powerless."

"It'll only be a fact if you give up."

Chloe lets out a bitter exclamation. She looks away to the dance floor, towards wherever her tears wouldn't flow. Her fingernails stick into her jeans so that she wouldn't wipe anything from her cheeks that isn't yet there. 

"I can't hide behind foolish hopes either, Maze," she replies. "Lucifer will leave someday and there's  _ nothing _ I can do about it." She sighs heavily, closing her eyes. "We've both already talked about this. If he says it's impossible, then it must be. I don't even get why I keep trying to--"

"Maybe because you don't believe in what he's saying?" the demon implies.

"Lucifer doesn't lie, Maze."

That too is a fact. 

Mazikeen bursts out laughing, head thrown back, mouth wide open on her terrifying teeth in the shadowy club. Had she ever used these same teeth to kill other demons down there? Because… demons kill each other. Don't they? 

Her laughter having run out, Maze shakes her head. There's still some parts left of her hilarity in her unconcerned smirk. 

Chloe squints, annoyed. " _ What? _ You're the one who told me he couldn't nor wanted to lie!"

"Of course he doesn't want to. Doesn't mean he'd be able to see the truth if it was right before his dickhead," the demon points out confidently. 

Chloe stares at her, hope burning within her chest. "You mean there's a way?" 

Mazikeen frowns. "None that I know of." 

_ "Wow,"  _ Chloe exclaims listlessly, hopelessly. "Great. Makes me feel a lot better. Talking with you is… really great, Maze, but I think it's enough talk for tonight!"

No. Impossible. None that a demon - a creature from Hell - nor even the Devil know of, of their truth and damn perception. None that anyone knows and really wanted to know.

What Chloe wants to know now is how her bedsheets will feel against her cries of rage. Nothing more until the next morning. She gets up and pushes two of the three cushions on the bench to finally find her jacket under the demon's feet. Chloe runs a hand through her hair while the other is a helpful support on the edge of the bench. Just the time for her to… see straight. "I'd better go home."

Maze nods, putting the boot in her chest. "So you don't have to face the truth?"

She gets it now, the reason why demons aren't fond of feelings, or of talking about those with others. Not their strong point at all. More a point of no return for Chloe's thoughts. 

Not facing the truth? She’s faced it every day since he left, since he came back! 

She was fighting  _ alone. _ She alone seeks solutions, all met with refusals. She alone deplores her failures, doesn't sleep nor live the day because of this. She alone had tried to take control of the time he had decided to give them - so little time on Earth to… take the plunge.

Then nothing for eight months here, as she'd imagine his eons down there.

Imagining alone. 

Alone. Again.

"Wow, I can't feel my feet!" Linda whimpers at Chloe's back. She collapses next to Mazikeen with a sigh and takes off her heels before her gaze stops on Chloe and her jacket. "Leaving already?" 

_ He's leaving.  _

Without warning, without thinking of anything else but this truth, Chloe bursts into tears. These flow so quickly that she can only imagine the surprise on Linda's face and the disdain on Mazikeen's. Or is it pity?

Her things dropped to the ground, Her hands cover her face, these become pretty quickly unable...  _ powerless  _ to stop the flow of human emotions. She wants to curl up on the carpet, forcing that bubble to wrap her tightly. 

So tight that it'd become harder to breathe.

She wants his arms around her. She wants time, so much more time. She wants a choice. She wants-- 

She wants--

She wants to have time to think about them, about how to become a 'them'. How to stay so. To no longer feel alone on the side of the road, whether he's on that plane or not. Why does she already feel so alone? 

Why does she keep struggling alone into this messy alternative? 

She's doing everything she'd tried not to.

But Lucifer… always having answers for everything, his self-confidence….

Chloe, led to the bench by one of the only three people who wouldn't leave her alone for once, lets tears and pitiful groans choke in the napkins they give her. Certainly not Mazikeen. Her stare is piercing her temple. Much more painful than any punch from some pathetic human killer on the run. 

Yeah, human emotions really  _ suck. _

Yes, she is weak. 

A demon, the Devil... could none of them understand, once and for all, that she is human? 

"Ella...an't breathe," she moans against her strong, hugger arms. 

Chloe didn't even see her coming back from the dance floor. She hadn't heard much since that thought too many, Linda's poor choice of words and her own sobs. Judging by how empty and heavy she feels, how her skin almost burns under her half-closed eyelids... this emotional blindness could have lasted for hours. 

But the dance floor hasn't emptied since, the first sunrays haven't yet pierced the big windows at the other end of the club either. 

Ella's arms stay around her neck, although less suffocating after her request. Chloe can even turn her head. As she does so, she can see the consequences of her loss of control on each of her friends' faces. 

First Ella, her doe eyes painted with spangled blue are so wide open, so sad for her. She's gonna get all kinds of considerate gestures the very next day. Today, isn't it? She doesn't wanna think about the details. 

Linda sits on the other side of the booth seat, her fingers clutching more napkins in her lap. Her lips are set in a way too serious, hard line as she adjusts her glasses on her nose. These are signs of a forthcoming emergency therapeutic-friendly talk.

And last but not least, Mazikeen, sat bolt upright behind Ella. Mazikeen who, contrary to what she had promised at the precinct, still hasn't opened her mouth to mock her 'heartbreak'. She looks ready to blow the table, bench and nightclub into dust for any next tear that would dare to run on her cheeks. The noise is loud enough so that nobody but her friends would hear her sobs. Less chances for the demon to slit the throat of anyone who'd look her wrong, at least.

Slitting the Devil's throat for far more mistakes than any weak, emotional human could ever make is a safer bet, though.

It's both terrifying and comforting.

Ella moves away from her, yet keeps one arm around her shoulders. "Whoopsy!  _ Dios mio,  _ my poor Chloe, what's wrong? The tribe can hear  _ everything!" _

Before Chloe's able to pronounce any syllable, Ella's firm hug is back at shoulder lever. 

"Wait! It's Lucifer, isn't it? Something happened to him?!"

"Ella…" Linda presses thumb and fingers together.

Her eyes widen slightly. "He  _ goosed _ you?!"

Chloe chuckles, her laugh sounding less like a pitiful sob through her lips. It is comforting; not to be the most drunk at this stage, to see that Ella's intense dancing performance had only encouraged the alcohol to rush into her bloodstream. Perhaps dancing is what she should have done from the start to avoid thinking.

Mazikeen rolls her eyes when Linda's smile is the forgiving type. "Looks like our drinks are running low here. Right, Maze?"

"Oh, I'd kill for Pina Colada!" Ella turns to Chloe. "What poison would cheer you up?" 

Chloe shrugs, wiping a teary trail from her cheek. "You choose for me, 'kay?" 

"Challenge accepted! Gonna be plenty poisoned by my concoction, I swear!" the forensic says, her left arm already pulled by the demon while she's giving a slight squeeze to hers. 

A minute later, human and demon are both storming the bar as Chloe feels the therapeutic talk storming towards her. That's why she avoids Linda's gaze and wipes more teary trails on her cheeks and chin. The napkin is scratchy, barely more bearable on her skin after it has drunk that much salty water. 

Linda only speaks once Chloe has caught enough breath and folded the napkin into rectangles, then smaller and smaller figures on her lap. "What happened?"

"We talked." Chloe raises her chin. "Your advice, remember?" she continues sharply. 

She feels bad for it almost instantly, even before Linda expresses hurt and guilt. She shouldn't. 

Chloe shakes her head. "I'm sorry, it's-... It'd be easier if I could just... if I could just blame you, blame  _ him _ ." 

"Do you?" 

Linda's voice is so sweet, so sympathetic. 

"I'm so happy he's back, Linda," Chloe says as she looks at her, her smile barely higher than its endless, linear defeat so far. "I really am. But-- Sometimes, I… I come to regret that he is." 

"Because he'll have to go back?"

She nods. 

"Sooner than I thought. I'm-... he leaves Hell on autopilot for years and… all of a sudden, because he _ literally  _ has a crush on me... his little kingdom can't live without him for more than four earthly months?!"

At first a whisper, Chloe's voice strengthens. Almost a cry of rage, almost noticeable at the end of her speech, and odd enough to hear by any other other people around. Immediately said, shouted; her distress wants to cry out again. Chloe takes a deep breath, her nails stuck in the napkin, in her palm after tearing it with a single pressure. 

"Four months?" Linda repeats. 

Chloe's head turns, surprised to see her express the same feeling, albeit with less intensity. The news seemed to upset her, however. So Lucifer hadn't told her anything since last week? 

Right.

Why even bother?

So that's why he had cancelled his session.

Linda would have forced him to tell a truth that he definitely didn't want to face like she did. Or, as he kept saying, it was all about details and perceptions - two things they interpret differently.

"He didn't tell you. Of course, he didn't," Chloe sighs. 

She shakes her head, playing with the napkin - or rather its pieces - and slowly, then faster, crumbling it on her lap. There already are a few scratchy, white flakes on the red carpet when she allows her thoughts to speak aloud again. 

No need for Linda's tricks this time.

All Chloe needs to do is think.

"How am I gonna announce this to Trixie, Linda? She thinks he's staying for good this time! And Ella, Dan... he doesn't trust me anymore, or almost. What's it gonna be like when Lucifer's gone? How am I supposed to--"

"...-to live without him again?" Linda finishes for her. 

Chloe swallows, the knot in her throat right there. It wouldn't leave. Lips pinched, she keeps staring at her knees glued together, at these white dots on a blue background. "It's not me I'm worried about."

"You think he won't make it in Hell?" 

Chloe snorts, shaking her head. "He's the Devil, Linda."

"Exactly. So what are you worried about? That he won't come back this time?" she insists. 

"Well, that's assuming he'll  _ want _ to come back," Chloe whispers. 

She can see her friend's slight frown from the corner of her eye. She sits up on her part of the bench, far enough away from Linda so as not to be embraced like a fragile little thing, like she's precisely feeling right now. She runs a hand through her hair, locks and pieces of paper behind each ear, before tilting her head back. 

The leather is cool against her sweaty neck. It makes her shiver.

"I'm just... Chloe, you know? God's little miracle, but human... whether he likes it or not. You know..." she turns her head towards Linda, cheek brushing leather, hair brushing the next words. "It takes two to make a couple work. For feelings to become... more? But he…" 

Chloe's finger raises with a tense smile. 

"He still managed to play this selfish! Because... it's not me, not my human feelings that brought him back here. It's his! Literally!" she exclaims, hands raised in the air, falling hard on her thighs the next second. "If it had been mine…." She snorts, shrugs. "If it'd been mine alone, he would've come back much faster." 

Her giggles getting lost in different thoughts, fear and grief win her voice, broken.

"What if he doesn't feel the same by the time he comes back here, in eight months? That's so much more time in Hell... so much more time to change your mind."

"If feelings were a matter of logic, we'd know," Linda says. 

"And Lucifer has no logic."

Linda tilts her head. "I wouldn't say that... just that he has his  _ own  _ logic."

Chloe sniffs, biting her lip.

"His own 'perception'?" She purses her lips, tasting her locks of hair before pulling them out with a finger. She watches the spiral stretch, compress around it and frowns shortly afterwards. "I hate that word." 

"Why?"

"Because it only reminds me that I'm just... me, in the end. Far, far below  _ his  _ perception," Chloe confesses, more tears burning her eyes. 

She stops turning finger and locks of hair together.

Why does she keep talking about this? 

She looks down at the cushions, the comfortable leather on which she is releasing outpouring thoughts that she had been accumulating for weeks. 

Eyes wide open on Linda's serene and overly professional expression, Chloe points her out. "Well doneeeeeeee! You're an ace, Linda!"

She feigns surprise, Chloe's other hand taps the leather as she smirks. 

"You made me sit down so that I could spill the beans. 'Couch-strategy'... that's smart! Couldn't figure why I was talking that much! I do, now."

Linda smiles, neither confessing nor apologizing. "Maybe because you needed to  _ spill  _ a few beans?" 

So smart.

Chloe shakes her head, pulling a bit on the locks tangled around her finger, rubbing the leather with her free hand. "Huh-huh. Couch trap... 'told you," she whispers, averting her gaze. 

"Look…."

She hears Linda approaching. Oh, she doesn't need a hug. She really doesn't. But Linda refrains from acting so. Her fingers just come to the rescue of her hair tangled for good around her finger, which looks more miserable than accusatory now.

Miserable. 

That she is. It's perceptible, in every way. 

"You're  _ you.  _ Doesn't mean you never had your say in all this. You have more power over Lucifer than you think." 

"Make him vulnerable, got that part… Screw _ that. _ "

"Not only physically." 

Chloe stares at Linda, who delicately spreads another lock that falls back into her disheveled hair. 

"I know. Lucifer told me how his physical responses change according to his emotions."

"That's not what I meant. It's simpler than that, more complicated too... It's Lucifer we're talking about, right? A pig-headed, immortal ass who'd refuse to walk through the door if it'd ever look like a trap to him," Linda mutters, rolling her eyes. 

"What does that even mean?"

"It means that Lucifer is the most immature and suspicious person I've ever met. Self-centered as he is, he'd suspect his own reflection of being in cahoots with his Father for some curly hair!" Linda takes a deep breath, focusing too long on the hair she's touching. "Anyway... what I mean here is that if Lucifer has come to make a deal with his Dad for you; this is proof that you have unique power over him. Because... nobody can force such an ass to act so. Nobody, except for you."

"But I... I'm not worthy of…of  _ all this _ , Linda."

Chloe looks at the ceiling, refusing to blink. A new wave of tears would come if she does. Her loose hair, a golden crown for the Queen, waits for their upcoming touch. 

"Everything he's done, everything he's endured for me…. And all I have is three months to return the favour? How am I supposed to do that?"

"Who's playing solo now, mh?" Linda implies.

Chloe sighs, eyes shut on her second tearful defeat. "I know. 'Practice what you preach', is that it?" Her voice breaks on weak giggles. "But it's Lucifer. You saw him, Linda. He's--"

"... him?" 

"Too much sometimes," Chloe adds once her eyes open. "And there are moments, we don't have a lot of them, when he's just--" She raises her hands. "... acting like nothing happened." 

"What would you like him to do?" 

"I don't know, I--" 

"That's because you think too much, Decker. And he, not enough." 

Mazikeen, sneaky by nature and straight by default, places a tray of bottles and filled glasses on the table. "Wanna know what you need?" 

Chloe rolls her eyes. "Please, don't say it…."

"A good fuck."

"And she does," Chloe sighs. 

"Who wants a Pina Coladaaaaaaa?" Ella sings, a cocktail in each hand. 

Chloe takes the glass and drinks long - very long - mouthfuls before glaring at the demon, "For the last time, sex is  _ not _ the problem."

No sooner has she said the words that silence mutes those of her friends. Although Mazikeen's arched eyebrow is wording plenty enough. She glances at Linda, much too discreet after such long talk. 

Chloe's lips release the straw with a groan. "Oh, come on…. Tell her, Linda!"

"Well…" she starts, squirming on her seat. 

"Still no trip on the Devil's toy?" Ella exclaims, already busy with her second cocktail. 

Chloe's mouth twitches. "That's not the point, I--"

Mazikeen snorts. Loud. "Try again, Decker."

"What are you waiting for?" 

"Ella, you don't know everything--"

"I know - we all do here - that the guy is  _ hella _ crazy about you and so are you! Here's all you need to know. On top of what's hidden under that suit!" Ella adds with a very suggestive raised eyebrow. She shakes her head. "No wonder he's so anxious about the date!"

Chloe's eyebrows raise. "He is?"

"Must need lots of lube in the meantime!" Mazikeen laughs. 

"Disgusting…" Chloe mutters around her glass. "And you know he didn't."

" _ Banging _ , Decker. And I know him better than you do for this. Orgies were a non-stop for far less time in Hell in the last century." 

"It must be hell for a guy as sexually active as he is... hella long," Ella says, her gaze lost somewhere on the dance floor. 

Chloe sighs heavily. " _ Thank you,  _ Ella." 

Linda shakes her head, taking one last sip before cutting off the debate. "Mmh... Chloe's right in this instance. It's been complete abstinence since…" She looks hesitantly towards Ella. "...since a while."

"Sounds like another thing in common between you two, hm?" Mazikeen implies.

"See? Poor dude!" Ella tilts her head to the side. "But he goosed you, so…."

Chloe turns to Linda, annoyed. "Aren't therapists supposed to keep these kinds of details to themselves?" 

Linda's answer takes far too long to come. She blinks slowly, mouth slightly open. She blinks a lot. 

"Maybe." 

Mazikeen throws her head backwards with a particularly exasperating sigh. She grabs a bottle, opening it with her teeth, then spits the cap on the table. 

"It's no secret that you both need to get laid." 

"He's got sweet cheeks with that."

Chloe's mouth closes on upcoming harsh replies. Ella answers her question even before she stops staring at her. 

"Even sweeter than Dan's." 

The lips of the forensic close on her fluo straw. She drinks fruit juice and white rum eagerly for a few seconds until her eyes widen slightly. Until she meets the three other women's stares once more.

Mazikeen's tongue passes over her grinning bottom lip. " _ Ellen!"  _

"Dan?" Chloe repeats, surprise overstepping annoyance. 

"I'm thirsty," Linda whispers, taking a blue cocktail with a slice of lime on its edge. 

Ella shakes her head sharply, gulping.

"It wasn't planned at all, Clo. I swear! It was just-- just like that, one time! Great one, but you know that.... He did want to do it again, in the file room the next day, but I refused. You know me!" With these words, Ella's fist raises to her chest, half of her drink spilled on her heels. "Loyalty tribe! I've never been with him again and I can tell you that I've been tempted manyyyyy times!"

"It's okay," Chloe tries to reassure her.

Honestly, she couldn't care less with whom might Dan spend his free time. Their next talk looks less tense from here now, though. 

Dan and Ella, mh?

"--really, Clo! I could make you a list of the times I've seen him lean forwards with my thoughts--"

Linda sits up, straw almost out of her glass and close to spray cocktail on Chloe's face and Maze's hair.

"A list!" Linda exclaims.

Chloe stares at her, confused. 

"A list," her friend repeats. "Why don't you make a list of your expectations of Lucifer and vice versa? That's as good way as any to define what you both expect from each other, isn't it? If 'talking' leads nowhere." 

Linda tilts her head to the side. 

"Never leads far with him, but that's because he always takes the wrong message from every conversation." She smiles at her with a knowing glance. "And no, that's not a medical secret."

The corner of Chloe's mouth quirks up. 

True. 

A list?

That's a thought.

"Could make a list of every moment when you squeezed your legs shut instead of opening them. Such a waste of time…" Maze raises her bottle to cheer such listed fatality. "And papers." 

To think deeper. Later. 

Ella nods. "That's a great idea, Linda. I make lists all the time!" 

"For when Dan's butt hit on you, hm?" Chloe teases her. 

"At least one who's tempted, Decker," Mazikeen teases her in turn, to whom she's tempted to stick her tongue out. 

Chloe takes big mouthfuls of her drink instead. Soon, her throat, cheeks and belly burst into flames. Perked up by this fire splashed with alcohol, she stands up. "What's tempting me now is to move mine! Ella?"

Ella doesn't need to be told twice, up even faster. "Butts dance, it is!" 

As soon as she reaches the last step leading to the dance floor, Chloe breathes more freely. Noises and movements overwhelm her. Uncontrollable, insatiable; her thoughts slip onto her skin. Breathed in, out; they pile up within her, only leaving her once they have been touched by lights, jostled by shadows. 

She was wrong. 

Getting overwhelmed was the only thing to do. 

She is human. 

If a human could foil Hell's or God's will, we'd know. Foiling every hopeful thought, every futile list of details that makes her think over and over again, Chloe welcomes silence in noise.

Just enough time to feel like herself.

Just her. 

Touched by the Devil.

Jostled by Hell.

Never enough.

  
  


**Tbc**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess whose POV it'll be for the next chaaaaaaaaaap? X)  
> No precise date for this one, I haven't started translating it yet. But I will soon, I promise. Better do, otherwise I'll be hit with newspaper as well XDDDD 
> 
> See u later, folks!


	17. Descartes would disapprove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chap has both been a real pain in the ass and a delight to write. It made me smile in front of my screen, with stars in my eyes— yes, I make weird faces while writing, probably a good thing that I write alone in my bedroom. 
> 
> Lucifer, dude… you didn't help me here (your POV for once, moreover!). Anyway, you're worth 4 rewriting X) 
> 
> For such amount of work, of dedication and feelings filling these pages, this very chapter is my favorite by far. Can't wait to have your thoughts on it :3
> 
> A big thank you to Alindorie who helped me change direction when it was necessary and to OkamiShadou98 for checking my spelling as their daily support. 
> 
> Music  
> ____  
> Right place, wrong time | Dr. John (Lucifer piano)  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/0I2ELF6uHlL4ABu9aFiou7 
> 
> Shooter | Tosch (ambiance LUX)  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/4dYMoGz9WX1rIfaPhSlI0f 
> 
> Someone you loved | Lewis Capaldi  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/7qEHsqek33rTcFNT9PFqLf 
> 
> Heart & Soul (Lucifer piano)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RGS3j0CvmfM

**DESCARTES WOULD DISAPPROVE**

17

* * *

  
  


Lucifer listens distractedly to the applause following the last brush on the piano keys and sung syllable. 

Distracted.

He's not, not the way he wants to be. Neither of his ways had really distracted him till now. And 'now' is late enough to feel bloody infuriated. There are barely a dozen of his guests left from the hundred of the night, who had occupied every breathable space of his club as soon as the door had opened — and their applause sound worn out. A mindless reaction to their host, no matter how perfect his yet extemporaneous performance might have been.

Perfect performance. Worn out. Mindless, too.

Probably not _that_ perfect. 

His fingers run over the piano keys with a slight frown. 

He had sat down, played a few tunes before this song. Enthusiastic start, melody of a desired although denied distraction, whatever he had done, wherever his face had turned. 

Even though the melody has been long sung, some of its lyrics keep swirling in his mind. 

_'My head is in a bad place_

_But I'm having such a good time'_

He sighs, the lid lowered on black and white keys. 

Of all the attempts of normalcy - of 'good time' - he had tried so far, every one of them had turned into bloody failures. Even alone, the only one to risk disappointment, he had missed.

Not that it's his fault.

It's Linda's. 

**_"Just act normal, okay? Don't ham it up."_ **

The Devil never 'hams anything up'. Each of his actions is scrupulous balance between desire, logical thinking and physical skills. He had therefore had trouble with Linda's logic, the very one that had led her to question him about the precise amount of time he would stay on Earth, over and over again. If he balances this 'normal' action like everything else, what's the point of dwelling on such a demoralising monthly notion? 

She knows, as everyone else - as Chloe - that he's not staying for long. 

What _he_ doesn't know is how to live in the moment with Chloe, in a relationship that has turned more private than professional. His previous 'lived moments' were nothing but drinking sprees, orgies and drugs. Three words out of the Decker dictionary. 

A date. A kiss or two. For starters.

That, he managed. All has been settled, the tiniest detail has been handled according to her desires— simple, with nothing looking closely like their former terrible attempts of dating. New place, new menu… he would be present all along moreover, neither 'dump' moves planned nor stewardess interruptus at his place.

What is left keeps bothering him nonetheless. All those moments without carnal arousal in the air. 

Chloe isn't only interested in his sexual performance which, as proven for millennia, is perfection. She's not Eve, obsessed with the Devil, the troublemaker— although she had been questioning a lot about Hell lately. Nor does she want his eccentricity, his money. 

Whatever she desires, he would be happy to oblige. He thought he knew. He thought Linda knew.

He had asked for her advice last week, as soon as he had been able to free himself from Chloe's arms and walk away from her deep snores on the couch. He had gone to meet her, eager-... no, _determined_ not to make any further mistakes in his relationship with the Detective for their short time together. 

_Act normal. Don't ham it up._

Linda's advice. That of a human, with the same perception of romantic relationships as the Detective, the same perception of 'earthly' matters in general. A human who had been in the same kind of relationship with another supernatural being, quite effectively he must admit. This is the closest situation to theirs. 

Acting normal. 

He hadn't acted this way since he's been back— they both had noticed. Had ensued his suspicion for Dad-signed plans and her worries about not being in control of her feelings at all. 

It had been normal to avoid Chloe after his session, when she had been drowning under boring paperwork, normal to look for 'Miss Lopez' distractions. It had been normal to forget manners perceived as 'good' by the Detective for his own, so much better and distracting manners with the Douche. Normal not to waste his valuable time at the precinct when the case was at its least entertaining point, checking upstairs when she had been wasting her time downstairs... the victim's room surely was more distracting for him, if not useful for the case. 

Which reminds him... in the rush, with Chloe's noises and cry downstairs - from this, Lucifer would never be distracted enough - the drive back to the station and his unpleasant departure; he had completely forgotten the private diary. It's still in the inside pocket of his jacket, completely ruined by the Detective's regurgitations, balled up at the foot of his wardrobe. Its contents might interest her, that's mainly why he had kept it. 

**_"I suppose that your 'helpful try' is out of my perception, then."_ **

He closes his fist on the middle of the lid, slowly. 

Maybe not. 

It would have been 'normal', however, to give it to her despite her sudden bad mood. Regardless of her glare that had carried words and tense voice, smacking in half the air between them. 

But he had just-... lost track with normalcy and let his resentment take the lead, a harsh one. It had come out of nowhere. From just those few words. And Chloe hadn't brought the situation back to her bloody 'carpe diem' precept either. She had followed him in the shadow of this inconsistency that had come out of nowhere as well. 

It's an anomaly. The entire day, tonight - even though it had been all about distracting him, as he would've acted before — the whole bloody last week had been an anomaly.

When did he act wrong? 

Lucifer's hand brushes the black wood once more, he extends it towards the glass above seconds later. Empty. He turns it several times, in one direction and then in the other, turning also in countless directions what had happened at the precinct. Before that, in the car.

They had spent so much time in the car lately. Lucifer smiles at the thought, at the irony of what the car represents; frozen time, a supposedly 'moving' vehicle yet frozen in place. Yet driving at full speed. Like time does on Earth, like it nearly stops in Hell - faster, slower than anything else with nothing to distract himself. 

Last night had been no distraction. Stakeouts rarely sound so. However the time, usually slower to the point of dreadful boredom, had stopped dead in its tracks with the Detective's first snore. At first delighted that she had proved him right, Lucifer had been careful not to point this out to her. At first amused by the force she had put into every snore, what he had felt afterwards... it had been the same feeling than a week earlier, on Chloe's couch, _under_ Chloe. 

The same exact feeling on his balcony. 

The loss. 

That feeling that would come back on her face, on her peaceful expression, for frozen time between two hells. 

Here is why he keeps looking at her in those moments. The naive expression ignoring the forthcoming loss. Because nothing is ever lost in dreams, because time doesn't matter. Never. Here's the expression that would soon haunt his.

When time would go on at full speed once her eyes would open. 

Here is why he smiles, jokes like he usually would.

Because she wants to live for today.

Not for the loss.

Because Linda had made him believe that her solution was the best of all to satisfy her, to spare her the loss, for just a little while.

But the Detective's expression, her behavior lately… it turns bad, worse even, after each of these 'car' episodes. She doesn't act _normal._ Less and less. She hesitates a lot, as often as when she had found out about him, although she's far less afraid. Or far more than he can tell. How could he? Her perception isn't his.

**_"I suppose that your 'helpful try' is out of my perception, then."_ **

Linda had it all wrong. 

He should have foreseen such a failure. His therapist had only dated an angel and, despite how most people perceive him, he is no angel. He's the Devil. He is King. 

Lucifer pinches the bridge of his nose. Dwelling on the situation this long… it feels like his thoughts have swelled and started to push on his temples. One more push and his brain might implode if he doesn't take action right now. Seeking for something to drink is probably acting too normal or in Linda's way, which he now knows is a dead end. Still, a drink is all he wants. 

That and figure out how to act from now on.

If he would keep acting as usual, the logical next step would be to wait for the next day or the Detective's call to show up at the precinct again. If she would act normal, she would then pretend to have more interest for the case than for him. 

And he wouldn't care. 

_Normally._

Normally, he wouldn't have missed his session with Linda for so little. This anomaly, they would have talked about it, they would've both agreed on the Detective's irrational reaction to his laudable efforts.

Normally, he would have known how to act.

He _always_ knew how to act. 

Standing up from the piano bench, Lucifer sighs before passing, thanking and passing guests again, all of them thrilled by his performance or willing his company. Conversing with either of them, none of these normal distractions thrills him. 

He shakes his head halfway up the flight of the stairs between the dance floor and the bar, both are half as crowded at dawn than during the night. The feeling of dismay sticking to him has too many similarities to what he sometimes feels after his therapy. He congratulates himself for not going last evening. Tonight is a bloody waste already, for only half of what he'd have felt after talking with Linda. His phone buzzes against his chest after another quickly closed chat with a customer. 

**Miss Lopez [04:01am] -** _Sham on u!_

Lucifer frowns, reading the second text that appeared right after the first. 

**Miss Lopez [04:02am] -** _Nice bootie, got it. U can't goose others anywhere. NO EXUDE, DUDE!_

Really confused, Lucifer starts to tap away. He offers to the forensic to resume their conversation once she'll have a functional phone, he would even be glad to provide her with an all new one at his expense tomorrow morning. He's been discharged by the Detective, anyway. His phone back in place, he sits on one of the bar tools, from where he could observe plenty without much effort. 

The cold marble under his palms freezes his boiling frustration, which hadn't taken long to come back after the short 'texts' interlude, while Patrick pours him another drink to end the night. Maybe that's not its normal end, or it might be— after the pretenses of normalcy last week. The only variable is his gloomy mood, Chloe's, which made no sense at all. 

He had much more cheerful night endings. Less weary.

"What's her name?"

His head turns while Patrick places his order in his hands, still flat on the bar. His gaze doesn't linger for more than a second on his interlocutor's face. 'Interlocutor' is a big word, for a locution not yet started. Once he's decided that the man's friendly features won't distract him enough - seated a stool away from his or not - Lucifer's attention goes back to his glass. 

The whisky is still there, so little distraction. It doesn't talk, at least.

"It's a secret?" 

"It's a sign that I have no desire to talk about it," Lucifer says curtly, not glancing once to the side. 

"Who wouldn't wanna talk about their heartache?" 

The ill-timed interlocutor's scoff has sounded closer and Lucifer watches from the corner of his eye as the stool to his right is pulled out for prolonged occupation. 

"Being in perfect health and immortal, I doubt that my heart is aching in any way."

"Take a look in the mirror, buddy."

Lucifer sits up. He arches an eyebrow. The man points out his face. "That's heartache." 

"I literally have no idea what that means." 

The man frowns, his lips stretched towards other wrinkles, not as deep as Lucifer had first thought. He's no more than 50s, his black hair grizzled at the top of his forehead and the base of his neck. His gray eyes probe Lucifer's. 

"First true love, isn't it?" he figures.

Lucifer's eyebrows rise with his smile, though he's still far from any joyful thoughts. "True? How could love even be lied to?"

"So that's a yes?" 

"More like a 'who the hell might you be?'" 

The man smiles, holds out his hand. "John Curling."

He shakes it. "Lucifer Morningstar." 

"I figured."

"That would've been a real shame - rudeness moreover - if you haven't. Not _figuring_ enough to leave the club owner bloody alone, though."

The whisky hardly burns the back of his throat. 

"I can leave," John says.

Lucifer takes a closer - longer - look at him once his glass gets empty, which he tilts to one side and then to the other in his palm. The first affability has given way to a quite intriguing assertiveness. With one single gesture, Lucifer could wipe that smile off his lips; with one single glance, he could make his eyes widen with dread. None of these actions would have the expected effect, witnessed with many of his most unpleasant interlocutors— that, Lucifer knows for sure. 

Nothing would manage to make this man tip over his seat, not even Hell on Earth. 

For a second, when their eyes meet, it seems like Lucifer is looking at his own reflection.

In a blink of an eye, the illusion is gone. John's poor taste in suits helped, obviously. Lucifer never looks that sloppy — who still thinks that the _Van Dycke_ beard is in, anyway? 

Dithering, Lucifer quickly comes to the conclusion that this strange conversation might succeed where everything has failed tonight. Distraction. 

"A drink, John?" 

The latter nods. Lucifer's tilts towards Patrick, empty glasses out of their sight the next second. 

"I rarely forget a face, but I don't think I've ever seen you in my club," Lucifer says. 

"Well, Lux didn't exist the last time I was in town." 

Lucifer arches an eyebrow. "Homecoming it is, then?" 

"More like a nostalgic tourist visit." John turns his head towards the private spaces ahead of the dance floor. "My wife had a good time here." 

Lucifer turns around as well, his gaze lingering on the woman sitting alone on the bench, next to the spiral staircase. His forehead creases. "And you leave your wife for a complete stranger's company?" 

John shrugs. "You're looking like someone who just reached strong deadlocks, woman-related deadlocks. She'll understand."

"And I still don't understand why this is any of your business."

"Guys must stand shoulder to shoulder."

"We just did," Lucifer replies, to which John chuckles. 

"I told you, I can leave." 

Lucifer looks at his glass placed in front of him, then at his interlocutor's; two amber-coloured undulations frozen on a dark background. 

"How do you know the Detective and I have reached deadlocks?" he asks, not looking up.

"Detective, mh? Funny name."

Lucifer smiles. "I got used to calling her that. She prefers it, too." He frowns, his fingers rotating the glass on the bar. "I think."

"You'll be really certain by asking her, won't you?" 

Lucifer gently shakes his head, pinching his lips soon after enough alcohol has fallen in his throat, an endless fall, he hopes. Each glass empties far too quickly to distract him. 

"Oh, I know what she wants. That's not the point." 

"What is?" 

Lucifer scoffs. "You sound like my therapist…."

His phone buzzes again, his expression darkened by the text he just received.

 **Linda [04:15am] -** _FOUR months?_

He puts it away without texting her back. How does she know about this? 

"Only questioning with terrible counsels," he mutters. 

"I haven't counselled anything yet."

True. Lucifer stares at him for a moment, his frustrated expression - result of therapeutic scolding - disappears as seconds go by. He smirks, taking the new glass Patrick just poured him, even before it brushes the marble, before the alcoholic dance within it stops. "But you're gasping to, aren't you?" 

John shakes his head. "Only if you want me to. Although… any advice turns more as bad than good ones if you don't know what it's all about, mh?"

"Therapist, part two! I doubt you'll be any more help than she's been so far, you and I have nothing in common."

"Oh, but we have," John contradicts him, his lips brushing his first glass for the very first time. 

Lucifer stares at him. 

John's hand lowers. "The 'first true love'. I know what it feels like." 

Lucifer's head tilts to the side as he once again starts rotating his empty glass between his palms. 

John leans forward, elbows on the bar. "What's wrong with your... _Detective_ , is that it?" 

Lucifer places his glass in front of him. It turns once... two, three times before he admits that tonight couldn't reach higher stages of disappointment anyway. At least, he hopes not. 

He sighs.

"I-... I don't know if our two lifestyles will ever allow us to truly understand each other. If I could never give her what she wants. I wish I could, but-" He shakes his head, rounded shoulders, gaze lost in the darkness of the bar. "I have responsibilities that I cannot shirk. Quite invasive ones." 

"She knows what these responsibilities are all about?"

Lucifer gives him a bitter laugh with a quick nod. "To their tiniest detail. I- Actually, I'm starting to wonder if she doesn't suffer from personality disorder sometimes! First, she asks me to live the moment without worrying about all this and then... nothing seems able to distract her mind from the topic!" He lifts his hands, frustrated, one threading through his hair next. 

Non-stop talks about his responsibilities... it had felt like he had been back in Hell again, when he was visiting souls in their hell loops. All the supplications, their 'promising' way out through their perception, because they'd always focus on one detail only. 

Always the most obvious, deceptive one.

_You're the Devil, only you can change things!_

That is what he keeps seeing in her eyes, despite her reassuring words, that she wanted nothing but the truth from him. Which ends up as a lie. 

His throat muscles tighten like Amenadiel's balls before his arrogance was shattered in his plucked fall, drinking doesn't change a thing. 

"Acting normal doesn't seem to be enough, like talking about the Hell waiting for me…."

"Maybe that's the problem?" John cuts him off calmly. 

"What?"

"You both seem unable to focus on anything else but the _bad._ Even more so by putting that aside." He smiles, gives a friendly pat on Lucifer's shoulder. "Seems like you're perfect for each other!"

_Perfect._

That's a matter of perspective. A God's miracle is perfect, by definition. Him? Not that much. Lucifer pinches the bridge of his nose. The discussion wasn't distracting enough to make him forget some paternalistic machinations. Although that was _normal_ thinking. 

He ignores John's last comment, like his crumpled suit at shoulder level. 

He had the proof that acting normal wasn't helping. Crushing his interlocutor's fingers is therefore out of the question. Lucifer's breath quickens with the thought, not for the thrilling anticipation of barbaric distractions. No, there is still the strange certainty that no action of any sorts would manage to disturb the man's serene posture. 

His phone stops the thought halfway. 

Eyebrows furrowed, lips parted on many questions, Lucifer stares at the interactive picture that Miss Lopez sent him. A cat spanking another. Given its… _childish_ lines, he wonders if the forensic hadn't sent it to the wrong person. Still... 5 AM, it's too early to disturb the Detective's spawn. 

Better not forward it to Beatrice now. Obviously, Lucifer is more aware of the disciplinary restrictions put in place by his partner than Miss Lopez, even though he never understood their usefulness. 

The child gets up at terribly early times to learn boring or simplistic concepts at school already. 

Later, then. 

Lucifer places his phone back in place. "There's nothing good in Hell to focus on.…" 

"If you say so."

"And I know what I'm saying, yes!" Lucifer retorts annoyingly. 

John shakes his head. "I've lived long enough to figure there's nothing strictly good or bad in this world." 

"Not as long as I have," Lucifer replies.

John chuckles. "Do I look that young?" He lifts a hand almost instantly. "Don't answer that, it might get me down." 

Lucifer chuckles in turn. 

"Who's focusing on the bad now, mh?" 

"Touché," his interlocutor admits while moving his glass to his lips. It's placed back on the bar once emptied with just two sips. "But let's focus on _you_ being endlessly negative about everything…. Relationships are all about balance, about compromises. And, above all, communication."

"No compromise for such responsibilities, I'm afraid. I've already bargained far too much with-" Lucifer swallows, tilting his glass forward, the alcohol a millimeter away from spilling over on the bar, then towards his pants. "With the last person I'd have expected to deal with." 

_That_ is an unpleasant topic, something to forget with distractions. The glass squeals in his hands as he feels Gabriel's again, the slight shake with his Father's — present by proxy. Not even a deal with the Devil himself could make God come in person, could it?

Not even His dying son in Hell.

Raising his head, he notices John's stare. Watery gray from some strange, undefined feelings. Too much alcohol for his fragile, yet still young body, perhaps? John's sad smile makes Lucifer frown.

"Sounds like you sold your soul to the Devil…."

Lucifer bursts out laughing. 

"Wrong deity." He waves his hand. "The communication between the Detective and I couldn't be more perfect. Not that it helped us much." 

"Because you both can't help but talk about the same topic all the time. Always the same way, am I wrong?" His assumptions welcomed by a quite puzzled face, John adds, insisting on each syllable, "By always putting the bad in the front!" 

"Come now—!"

"Prove me wrong," John challenges him. 

Although he opens his mouth for fair, reasonable protests, Lucifer soon looks for words; true, unquestionable proves that their talk basis had been anything but 'bad' thus far. Quite the opposite.

Yet.... 

**_"You never told me… how you punished people in Hell."_ **

**_"I thought that you were gone for... for good?"_ **

**_"I was, indeed. I wasn't planning on coming back."_ **

**_"Well, that's a problem because..."_ **

**_"But there was a catch, wasn't it? There's always a catch."_ **

**_"That's not fair."_ **

**_"Who would want or even be able to sit on mine if I'd die?"_ **

**_"It was the only way."_ **

**_"I suppose that your 'helpful try' is out of my perception, then."_ **

Mouth shut on an unquestionable confession, Lucifer keeps quiet for a long time, eyes down, choking on this knot that rises down from his throat to his chest. John takes his silence as an encouragement to continue, "How about you change your tune this time?"

Lucifer smirks. "Hell and my Father's absolutism are both unique tunes, I'm afraid."

John's hand feels both light and heavy on his shoulder, a support of which Lucifer doesn't think to be in need. It distracts him enough from the cracked glass in his hands, from the unpleasant pressure that swells between his ribs. Every time he thought back to Chloe's gaze before he left the precinct, before he left this world. 

_"Please… please, don't go. I-"_

Lucifer's eyes meet John's gaze. It helps me settle into his seat, away from such... _bad_ distraction. 

"I'm sure you can find some good in all this bad." 

"I'm definitely good at looking like the bad guy."

John smiles, his hand sliding over his shoulder until it's gone.

Lucifer breathes more freely. 

"See? If you look deep enough... I bet that your Detective doesn't know all about… _Hell,"_ John says as he stands up, pushing his empty glass towards Patrick. 

He turns his head, his smile shining with stronger affability than before, with something familiar. Lucifer freezes on his own seat. His mouth opens, yet mute, while his interlocutor finds further words to pin his silence down on his palate. "Or about you... _Lucifer."_

"You-" the latter whispers first, then clearing his throat. "You're sure we haven't me—?" 

Another buzz sound brushes his chest and he jumps, rummaging through his pockets at mid-sentence. 

"Wha-..." he whispers again, his expression opening up to annoyance, which turns to rage almost instantly while taking knowledge of an order in his name for— 

_Sixty-nine goats?!_

Jaws clenched, Lucifer takes a deep long breath through the nose. 

" _Maze…"_ he roars before lifting his head. "I'm sorry John, but I must shorten—" His words die in his throat as he stares at the unoccupied stool to his right, "...-demon's limbs." 

He turns his head to all sides, towards the dance floor first, the spiral staircase shortly afterwards. No trace of John and his wife. Lucifer frowns, his phone still in hand as he stands up. Of all the distracting skills that 'John' seems to have, manners are _not_ one of them. 

Chloe should be more concerned about all those people with no manners at all before his, not perfect but here nonetheless.

He knows how to behave, the proof being that he would wait until tomorrow - more like a few hours, now - before tracking down Mazikeen to deliver something _very_ special for her. Within the next few hours, his gloomy perplexity would disappear— a Scotch, a shower and his bed would be enough. Lucifer turns his phone in his hands, its side gently tapped on the bar. He's nevertheless aware that whatever he had done tonight, nothing had managed to stop his thoughts for long. John's intervention had brought as much confusion as clarity to his mind. He is also aware of the weight beneath each of his muscles, beneath every blink. 

Weariness hits hard this morning. 

He runs a hand over his face, his breath over his tense fingers, a still blanket for the sigh that follows.

If a few hours sleep wouldn't bring any solution, it would certainly be a welcomed respite for his thoughts. 

Lucifer walks away from his seat, the club and the late - morning - festivities without looking back nor stopping at his name cried by overly drunk customers. It's still with his phone in his hands that the elevator doors isolate him from any other sounds; his rhythmic breathing, tired of repeated thoughts, the dull sound between skin and technology, the fabric stretched over a longer breath that releases some tension in his shoulder muscles.

**_"I'm sure you can find some good in all this bad."_ **

Good and Evil, mh?

Chloe is the good in his bad-self. 

He found her. Keeping her, keeping her unspoiled, uncorrupted by all the bad of his existence… that's the problem. 

His hand shakes slightly as he thinks of all they had talked about. All those bad touches about to fade her fragile perfection, about to turn her as bad as he is with any other words from him. She's not made for his world, she has nothing to do with it, especially since they were reunited in this one. Neutral ground. 

He _couldn't_ act normal, not anymore.

Lucifer almost lets go of his phone, which buzzes insistently. The melodic call pulls him out of his trance, invading the narrow silence of the elevator car. After a slight shake of the head, he picks up, not even thinking of checking who that was. "Hello?"

He hears a frustrated snort. He frowns. 

"It's not fair...."

His breath freezes between his ribcage. "D-Detective?" 

Another snort. Lucifer moves the phone away from his ear, staring at it for a second. Did the Detective finally decide to provide a domestic beast - judged 'so cute' - to her begging offspring? She hadn't stopped singing the praises of such a creature the other night, when he had come to her place; unsure of what he should do, yet very eager to see her. 

His present feeling can relate. 

He looks at the control panel of the elevator, the ascending numbers, illuminated, quickly back into darkness. Should he go back down, go to meet her? 

She had agreed to contact him only for a significant advance in the case. A normal action. 

Normal didn't help, however. 

The phone is back in place, the control panel untouched.

"I-... To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

That snort again. He only hears the Detective's voice around it now, though - how it sounded like when she was clearing her throat, deep, in deeper snoring sleep. She's not sleeping now, is she? 

"Not fair," she repeats. 

"Not fair? I don't understa—"

"Your voice is _too fucking hot_ , whatever you say… 'ot fair." 

Eyebrows raised, Lucifer opens his mouth without knowing how to respond to this complimentary reproach. "I-... thank you, Detective. That being said, I'd like to know what's the goal of th—"

"No."

"No?" he repeats, puzzled. 

_"Shhhhh!"_

He flinches a bit. "Det—"

"You. Mouth. Shuuuut," Chloe's high-pitched voice orders. "Don't stand a chance if you distract me with your devilishly sexy tongue, hm? So... _hush!_ " 

Lucifer keeps quiet; surprised, because he doesn't know what to say, because anything he could say would be 'acting normal', acting against the Detective's desires. Because she called him for something other than uneffective normalcy. 

"Good Devil," the Detective says. 

It's a good thing that the elevator chooses this moment to stop and give a resounding distraction for both Lucifer and Chloe. She'd be displeased to hear the strangled noise out of his closed lips. 

Who's getting distracted by some devilishly sexy sounds now?

"You know what else is good? Imagining your voice aaaaall alooooooong my skin." 

Lucifer pauses in front of the bar, his free arm hanging above, to close reach of the first carafe of alcohol behind it. 

"Question is… wheeeere would we hear it first, mh?" Chloe continues, touched fabric, moving body in the background. 

Lucifer's body turns away from the bar. 

"Maybe in the ear?"

Lucifer purses his lips. Logical starting point. That is precisely where the Detective's voice mutes his while he's waiting for other sounds. Her sounds, her words. His feet barely wait for the next syllable to lead him to the nearest chair. 

The next sigh is slow.

So slow.

"Then my neck. Between every kiss, after your breath that would brush my hair, every lock spread by it. Slowly."

She sighs. Slowly. "I'd play with your hair, I'd move every curl away from my skin as you'd go lower... becauuuuse... nothing but your voice, nothing but your lips would be allowed to touch me. Nothing else." 

Lucifer breathes in. Deep.

" _Exactly_ like that," Chloe encourages him, giggling afterwards.

Her voice touches more than his skin, it winds around his muscles, tense, relaxed before... after each whispered word. Imagined one. Lucifer has no need to _imagine_ how much she's affecting him. 

He can hear it.

His breathing; slow, fast. His beating heart. Slow. Fast. The fabric stretched between his legs, which has nothing to do with a miscalculated cut. Although no one, not even himself, had ever been able to calculate to how much extent Chloe could affect the Devil. He closes his eyes, recalling how his breath had turned denser, making him feel dizzy while his nose had brushed her hair. His resolution to tempt her only with words that day in the interrogation room… it had faltered, with one slow sigh in her hair.

"And once you'd reach my lowest spot…." 

He gulps, his throat muscles squeezing rapid pulsations, the surge of desire in his veins. In his breath. His free hand rests on the leather of the armchair, the seams pulled to their limit. 

One more pressure and—

"Well?!" Chloe exclaims, pulling Lucifer out of his imagination, pushed to his 'lowest' reality.

The pulled leather squeaks under his stretched fingers. He blinks, slightly panting. He takes a step back. 

"So?" 

Chloe sounds impatient. 

Lucifer's forehead creases, mouth open. 

"You don't like it? 'Doesn't sound hornyyyy enough for Mr. Morningstar, does it?" She sniffs, loudly. "Why are you so quiet?" 

"I—" 

" _Halleluuuuuuuja!"_ Chloe sings. "Were you even listening?" 

"To the very last syllable," Lucifer says.

"But you didn't say _anything."_

"Because you asked me not to."

A long silence follows his explanation. He listens to the Detective's slower, faster breathing, utterly confused by this sudden change of mood. Not quite sure if she still wants him not to speak at all, Lucifer slowly makes his way to his piano. The shadows are already moving away from its ends, carried away by the very first lights of dawn. 

"'m not a good temptress, am I?" the Detective eventually whispers. 

Sitting on the bench, Lucifer's protests choke on a long exhalation, his gaze naturally drawn to his pants and their stretched fabric— both from his current position and a more specific, upright one. The lowest one. 

"Quite the opposite," he says hoarsely.

He hears a groan. Different. Softer. "Liar."

"I never lie, Detective."

It requires lots of slow, controlled breaths to find back his 'devilish' - obviously - sexy tone; to sound more like himself. 

"But you don't always tell the whole truth...."

Lifting both of his hands, Lucifer doesn't know what to say, his gaze stopping briefly on the phone, which is back to his ear soon after. "If you need concrete proof to believe me… how about I send you a picture of my cracked pants at crotch level, mh?"

The grin turns to chuckles as he hears her muffled, sniffed ones. 

The weight between his ribs lifts effortlessly. He is still smiling, even past his comment. Past an even longer silence. Less unpleasant. Like the one that had extended between their lips that night. He had apologized shortly afterwards. Because he had felt like he had to, not before. Neither after.

Right there. Closer to her, to her breath.

But he had done nothing wrong here. Nor had he acted right. Just… acted normally. 

He gently shakes his head.

"I thought-" he starts, taking a deep breath before continuing, "It felt like we'd parted on quite… _distant_ terms earlier. I'm-... confused. Isn't this the strict opposite of what you wanted for us? _Basics?_ " 

Chloe breathes out. Loudly. "'at was before…."

"Before?"

He hears another sigh, footsteps and the Detective's loud groan shortly after something squeaks. He knows that sound. Although his own mattress never squeaks that loud. All about quality. He still has no clue how in the hell Chloe never ends up doubled over in pain with just one night spent on hers. 

"I just-... I wanted to…."

Lucifer arches an eyebrow, his fingers moving back and forth on the closed lid.

"I just wanted to imagine being able to make you stay."

"You could call me, Dete—"

"Not thaaaaaat," she moans. 

He falls silent, confused.

"You can't stay. Here. With me." She sighs. "You never stay."

Lucifer freezes, his fingers still on the 'bad', never disappearing fast enough around him, which was rushing too fast towards his vital 'good'. John is right. They always come back to the bad, to the shadow.

 _His_ shadow. 

He closes his fist.

"You didn't stay at the precinct last night, did you?" he changes the subject.

His light tone can't pass the knot in his throat. Its exit is hoarse, nearly trembling. 

"Uh-uh…" Chloe whispers. "'Need 'break… stop thinking."

"Stop thinking? Descartes would disapprove, Detective."

"'Depends."

"Of what?" 

"Was he a drinker?" she asks in a drawling voice. 

Lucifer frowns. "How should I know?" 

"Yo'v'met toooooooons of people, quoth Linda! So?" Chloe whispers in confidence. "Was he able to hold Maze's drink?"

The Devil's lips curve into a smile.

"So that's how you came to 'stop thinking', by mimicking Maze? That's dangerous game, Detective."

A dull sound. Then another, before her brief sigh. "'inda and Ella drank too," she says shyly.

Lucifer opens his mouth. 

That explains a lot. 

"Right." He nearly chuckles by just imagining everyone's state by now, especially Chloe's. "Well… Descartes certainly had his own way of thinking, which aligned pretty well with mine. Anyway, these thoughts weren't yet mature enough, back when I was in Europe."

"W'y?"

"Because when you're barely two years old, you only think about—"

Lucifer stops talking. The conversation keeps coming back to himself, to the spent time between each of his visits on Earth, between everything he missed from down there, everything that disappeared in his wake. Unchanged. Darkness peppered with flickering lights for millennia.

He swallows, smiling by default, if not because he wants to. That's stupid. Chloe can't see him. 

She can hear him.

"Well, you tell me, Detective. After all, you're the one living closely with a small human. What were your offspring's thoughts when she was even smaller than now?"

She sneers. "'uch an ass…."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're such an aaaaaaaass," Chloe repeats, insisting on the last syllable. "Linda who said it, that too…. And Maze," she adds, her slurred voice wrapped around the 'z' like a snake. "But she thinks I'm acting the same as you are, so…." 

Lucifer squints, his hand raising the dark piano stand. "Well... Seems like a good thing Miss Lopez was there to counterbalance with your low opinions about me!" 

"Mmmh. She's very fond of your sweet cheeks."

He arches an eyebrow.

"Sweeter than Dan's," Chloe continues. 

"Not that the difference is anyhow difficult to make up for," he says. "And where did this disadvantageous comparison come from?" 

Chloe giggles uncontrollably for almost a full minute, during which time Lucifer gets rid of his suit jacket, now on the bench. He keeps the phone between ear and shoulder, freeing his wrists from the clothing constraints of public appearance at night. Soon Chloe's laughter turns into a whisper, like coolness threaded under his sleeves up to his elbows. "They diiiiiiiiiiiiid it."

Lucifer's eyebrows raise as he retrieves his phone from under his cheek with one hand. His laugh is not long to come, his smile as broad as it can follow his imagination, which can't picture Daniel's awkward performance to the fullest obviously. "Oh, now I _really_ regret I've missed the party!"

Imagining all the allusions he could make about it as soon as the Detective would be fine with working back together and arresting their killer is positively thrilling. For normal actions. His imagination is cut short by a sniffling. Then another, soft, between two rubbings of fabric.

He frowns. "Detective?"

Sighs and noisy sniffing's get mixed up. Not as loud as the wind beating the door of the terrace that had stayed ajar, shut on the very last shadows of the previous night. Louder than his own breath, submitted to silence by her voice, which he wants to hear before anything else.

She sniffs, "I'm s'rry."

Puzzled, Lucifer sits up on the piano bench. "What for?"

"...rew you out of the precinct. N'reason. I'm-...." She takes a long, already noisy breath through her nose. "Why not stay with me?" 

Lucifer's fingers twitch around the phone, his lips half open on an answer they both knew, from which he never protected her.

_Always putting the bad in the front._

"It's pretty obvious, Detective." 

The tense silence stretches longer than the few seconds it takes to break it, to pretend to her perception of the present moment.

He smiles. How little smile. "I hate paperwork."

She laughs, a little. He smiles, a little more. A little more alive, more awake than he had been all evening. 

"Looks like a shared hatred," she replies before a new grunt surrounds the last word. "Mhm... _hot_ …." 

Lucifer, who had stretched out his only free hand towards the black and white keys, stops his gesture. His smirk follows Chloe's vague grunts, the even less clear noises in the background - a fall, the scraping of a zipper from top to bottom, the stretching of an elastic band snapped on the skin and, finally, the breath of air following whichever blanket sharply pulled forward.

His eyes squint.

"You're naked, aren't you?" he asks, his gaze naturally drawn towards his own bed and the memory of her so noisy naked conquest, a few earthly years earlier.

"Basics, Lucifer…" she groans.

He chuckles, brushes the keys from one end to the other. "Basically, the first man was born naked, Detective."

"Shut up."

Nodding, Lucifer hears no more than her steady breathing. Quite a unique sound. Unfailing. He flinches minutes later, after having distractedly pressed a finger on a key, about to press on another. "Pl'yingsome'ing.. f'r me?"

With another nod, the phone dislodged from between his ear and shoulder, Lucifer places it in the middle of the piano from where the light and nostalgic melody once played by both of them soon rises. For the present time. 

The moment keeps stretching long after the first snoring echoes of the only good able to disperse all the bad gathered around him.

Dreamed, time never matters.

**Tbc**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're so cuuuuute :3 
> 
> I'm busy writing in french the next chap - a long one, surprise! - so the next update isn't for next week. We're getting closer to the end, btw (10 chaps or so). And to the date (like - really really close).
> 
> Also,  
> I've started a little game on twitter that we can also play here. It's the same principle of Netflix and the episodes titles : sentences with missing letters, you must guess the whole thing. At the end of each chap, in the end notes, I'll provide a sentence (a clue about what's coming next) and you can try to guess it right in the meantime.  
> (Congratulations to LucidDreamer & Morgane for chap17 guess sentence) 
> 
> Here's the sentence for chap 18,  
> *****e will r*c***e a *e* **x* from ******r
> 
> Thanks for reading.  
> See u soon.


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